


Get up

by Callistemon



Series: Get Up [3]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Depression, Dogs, Epilepsy, Hospitals, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Hurt/Comfort, Matt Murdock & Foggy Nelson Friendship, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Medical Procedures, Sickfic, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-28 14:43:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 47
Words: 143,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13906224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callistemon/pseuds/Callistemon
Summary: Matt Murdock's many head injuries catch up with him, resulting in long-term damage in the form of epilepsy. When a series of mysterious druggings implicates someone dear to him, Matt returns to the streets with the help of his new four legged friend, Daisy (AKA Devildog). Unfortunately, nothing about Matt Murdock's life is ever simple and he struggles to balance his old life with his new reality.This is essentially an indulgent hurt/comfort story that celebrates Matt and Foggy's friendship.





	1. The plan

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third of a series. While I encourage you to read the first two, I understand that the second story in this series is epic, so I've tried my best to provide enough background information in the first couple of chapters to get new readers up to speed. Essentially though, all you have to know is that Matt was diagnosed with epilepsy about six months before this third story, triggered in part by the Punisher's strategically-aimed gun shot to the head (Daredevil (TV) season 2). My series draws from both the comics and the TV series, but largely sticks to the Netflix canon until the Punisher encounter in season 2. Oh, and Foggy's still camped out in Matt's living room (they both know that he's there to help Matt when he has a seizure, but neither of them are willing to say that out loud). Anyway, that's enough preamble. Read it, and if you have any questions let me know. Any comments are more than welcome.

Foggy flung his head back as he twirled on the spot. He was sweaty and probably leeching alcohol out of every pore of his body, but gee the song was good. He put his hands out and some random woman shimmied up to him, matching his moves as he closed his eyes and absorbed the beat. He’d missed this… dancing. When he got into the zone, nothing mattered but the beat…

Nothing.... until the phone vibrated in his pocket.

“Shit,” Foggy said under his breath, pulling the phone out and weaving through the crowd until he got to the relatively quiet entrance hallway. “Matt, are you okay?”

“Mmm… Foggy, I think – Daisy says-” On the other end of the phone, Matt was pacing while the tiny dog jumped up at his leg, warning of an impending seizure.

Foggy ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. “Where are you? Are you sitting down? Are you safe?”

“Yeah, um, I’m-”

Recognising Matt’s confusion that signalled his seizure was only moments away, Foggy turned the phone’s volume up and checked the app that tracked Matt’s location.

“Oh thank goodness,” Foggy said under his breath. “You’re only a few blocks away.” Foggy didn’t bother retrieving his cloaked jacket, let alone tell his still-dancing friends he was abandoning them. He squeezed out of the narrow entrance and ran in the direction of Matt’s supposed location, hoping that he’d make it before he seized. “Matt, listen to me,” he breathed as he loped down the street, “Matt, you need to lie down somewhere safe. Is there anyone around?”

“Lie down… yes,” Matt repeated slowly. He made a beeline for a small nook in the alleyway wall. It smelled of rat urine and ancient cigarette butts, but it was better than being out in the open. Daisy nuzzled her little face into his chest and pawed gently at his side. Matt put his hand out to her, desperately needing the reassurance.

Foggy repeated, “Matt, are you lying down?”

Matt grunted a yes.

“Good, Matty. Is there anyone nearby? Make sure you pull up your hood to protect your head, remember…. Matt? Matt, are you there?” Foggy swore as he checked the map again. He was close. The app indicated Matt was in a narrow alley, only a block away. Foggy picked up the pace, breathing white puffs into the winter air as he ran. The things he did for his crazy vigilante friend…

 

* * *

 

The location sharing app was part of ‘the plan’ as it was simply called (because Matt vetoed, ‘Operation Rescue Daredevil’). When Foggy first suggested the app, Matt vehemently refused, arguing it was unsafe and unsecured. Foggy just waited until Matt had used up all his arguments and swooped in with “you know what’s unsafe, Matt? Unsafe is someone finding you unconscious in an alleyway, recognising you as that vigilante who’s been putting a stop to their criminal activities, and then either beating you to a pulp or locking you up. I’d say the app is relatively safe compared to the consequences.” When Matt eventually relented, they nutted out the plan: in addition to sharing his location, Matt would call Foggy as soon as Daisy alerted him to a seizure and he would abandon any fight or investigation, regardless of the consequences, in order to find a safe place to lie down. In return, Foggy would pick Matt up if and when he seized. Foggy also promised to try and limit his judgement about Daredevil’s activities.

In the three weeks since the plan had been nutted out, Matt had only been out half a dozen times. The seizures that occurred inconveniently every three or four days definitely hampered his night time activities. He’d already seized once while out on the prowl, and it hadn’t gone as well as they’d hoped. Foggy turned up to find Matt slumped against a dumpster with a massive lump on his head, indicating that he hadn’t taken steps to lie down before the seizure hit. Foggy had broken his promise that night, indulging in a mini-rant about Matt’s safety. Ultimately though, Matt went out again and Foggy was forced to make his peace with it.

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take long for Foggy to find Matt. The phone app was thankfully accurate enough to pin-point the spot exactly, which was a good thing now that Matt had temporarily swapped his eye-catching red suit for an armoured black hoodie and pants that tended to blend into the shadows or crowds. As Foggy approached the alleyway nook, he spotted another figure kneeling next to Daisy, their hooded head bent over Matt’s. Daisy looked up at the sound of Foggy’s footsteps and gave a small spin in response before returning her full attention to Matt.

“Hey,” Foggy called to the mystery person, the wobble in his voice all too clear.

The person looked up. Their face was cast in shadow so they looked headless under the hood. It must have only been a millisecond before the person spoke, but in that time, Foggy catastrophized, running through all the terrible things this person could be or do.

But then the figure pushed back his hood, revealing a mop of blond hair that glistened in the moonlight. “Oh hey, Foggy, uh, he just stopped shaking.”

Foggy’s squinted into the shadows. “Danny? What are you doing here?”


	2. Malaise

Before Danny could answer Foggy’s question about his intentions, Matt gave a small gasp.

Foggy immediately ran to Matt’s side, kneeling beside him and clasping his hand. “Matty, it’s Foggy. You had a seizure. Can you squeeze my hand?”

There was no response, so Foggy turned his attention back to Danny. “How long was the seizure, do you know?”

“From the time he dropped the phone till about a minute ago,” Danny said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. At least he didn’t add ‘duh’ to the end of the sentence (although Foggy wouldn’t put it past him).

Foggy frowned. “Hang on, you mean to say you were with him when he called me?”

Danny looked a bit sheepish. “Not really _with_ him,” he said, looking away from Foggy. “Uh, I was following him.”

“Why?”

Matt shuddered, and Foggy turned his attention back to his half-conscious friend. “Matty, can you squeeze my hand?”

Matt complied this time, giving it a small squeeze while mumbling something unintelligible.

“Matt, you’ve had a seizure,” Foggy repeated. “We’re in an alleyway. Danny’s here-” Foggy petered off as Danny made a slashing gesture. “Uh, Danny wants you to know he’s not here,” Foggy said with a roll of his eyes. Danny groaned and Foggy hissed, “he won’t remember any of this. He’s only remembered stuff immediately after his seizure on a couple of occasions, so your secret’s safe.”

Danny huffed in annoyance. Before Foggy could once again ask why Danny was following Matt, Danny’s phone vibrated and hurriedly pulled out his phone. “Oh, my car’s coming now,” Danny said. “It can take you home.”

“You called a car for Matt?”

“Yeah… I thought about carrying him home but he’s pretty heavy now. He’s built up some muscle over the last few months.”

Foggy stared. Carrying Matt home was not the alternative most people would consider, and Foggy still couldn’t work out Danny’s intentions. “Why were you following him again?”

“In case of this,” Danny said, gesturing at Matt’s prone body. “I believe in what he does, but he needs back up. I wasn’t following him every night, but then I heard about the dumpster injury from Claire and, well, I can’t let that happen again.”

“Thanks, Danny.” Foggy forced a smile. In his opinion, Danny and Matt were both as mad as each other. Foggy struggled to his feet and said, “you take one arm and I take the other?”

The two men grunted as they picked Matt up. Judging from Matt’s small moan, he was slightly awake, but not enough to care about walking.

“He really has put on weight,” Foggy puffed as they stumbled to the car. “He was all ribs for a while. He weighed something like 120 pounds when he was last in hospital.” Foggy tripped over a can, swearing as he landed awkwardly on his right leg. “Don’t get me wrong,” he continued between breaths, “I’m glad he’s got a bit more meat on him, but it’ll be difficult to pick him up off the ground if he returns to his pre-brain injury physique.”

“There are worse worries to have,” Danny said in one of his odd moments of considered thought.

“Yeah, like my sidekick name,” Foggy muttered. “Matt suggested Darepickeruperer.”

Danny laughed. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

“That’s what I said, particularly as Daisy gets Devildog,” Foggy said.  

They rounded the corner and Danny said, “ah, here he is.” A bashed up blue sedan was idling with its lights off.

Foggy stared. “You’re a millionaire and _that’s_ your car?”

“Incognito car. I thought Matt would prefer it,” Danny said brightly.

Foggy groaned, “probably.” He adopted a sanguine tone and said, “hey Matt, our ride’s here. Can you try to stand up while I open the door?”

Matt gave a small grunt in response, although that didn’t mean much. Foggy knew from experience that Matt’s comprehension of directions was pretty limited immediately after a seizure. Sure enough, as soon as Foggy untangled his arm from beneath Matt’s shoulder, Matt slumped heavily against Danny. After wrestling with the ancient door, Foggy finally managed to thread the barely conscious Matt into the back seat. Daisy jumped onto the seat and put a possessive paw on Matt’s lap, looking up at Foggy with her dark brown eyes. “Good dog,” Foggy whispered, giving her a quick scratch behind the ears.

Foggy turned back to Danny, who seemed distracted by something at the end of the block. “Uh, Danny, are you coming with us?”

“Oh, no,” Danny said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Uh, I have things to follow up.”

Foggy bit his lip. It sounded like a cryptic Matt-style explanation. Forcing another smile Foggy said, “okay. Thanks again for the car.” He watched through the back window as Danny ran off down the street, disappearing into the shadows before the car had even left the kerb.

 

* * *

 

When they got home, Foggy led Matt into his bedroom where he collapsed onto the bed without a word.

“Matty, at least take your hoodie off,” Foggy said, tapping Matt’s hand to try and keep him awake. “Come on Matt, it can’t be comfortable.”

The fortified black hoodie and pants Matt currently wore on patrol were made by Melvin Potter as a stop-gap measure while the seizures remained uncontrolled. The hoodie had a built-in tessellated mask for anonymity and protection, as well as a ‘hood airbag’ in case of seizure-related falls, which had saved Matt’s head from further injury on more than one occasion. However, the fortified material also made the hoodie relatively thick and coarse; it was not exactly comfortable to sleep in.

When Matt didn’t move, Foggy said more forcefully, “please Matt, you’ll regret it later when you wake up sweaty and disgusting.”

Matt rolled over and kicked off his pants. “You can do that too,” Foggy muttered, relieved that Matt at least had the mind to keep his boxers on. “I’ll get some fresh pyjamas,” he said, turning his back to sift through Matt’s drawers. Matt gave a strangled moan and Foggy turned around to find Matt on his back, struggling to extricate himself from his hoodie.

“Here, Matt, let me help,” Foggy said, untangling Matt’s arm that had caught in one of the sleeves.

By the time Matt had stripped to his boxers, he’d exhausted his reserves. He pulled at his bedding, curling up under the blankets like a worm exposed to the sun. Foggy eventually gave up on the pyjama idea, leaving them folded neatly at the end of the bed just in case. The seizure emergencies were always quite sobering, but with Matt now safely in bed, the effect of Foggy’s alcohol consumption at the club was making itself known. He downed two glasses of water in quick succession and traipsed to bed.

 

 

Matt stumbled out the next morning, still dressed only in his boxers.

“Coffee?” Foggy said in greeting.

“Mmm… thanks,” Matt mumbled. Sore and still quite disoriented following the seizure, he shivered and wobbled over to the couch where he’d left a hoodie the day before. He delicately threaded his arms through the holes, wincing as his muscles protested.

Foggy noticed Matt’s cautious movements from the kitchen and said, “you didn’t hurt yourself last night, did you?”

“No, just the usual seizure ache,” Matt grumbled. He threw himself onto the couch and snuggled sideways into the cushions, tempted just to fall asleep again. Daisy had other plans for him though. She jumped onto the couch and nuzzled her tiny snout under one hand, forcing a head massage. “Good girl,” Matt said, scratching behind her ears.

“Devildog saved Daredevil’s ass again last night,” Foggy called from the coffee machine.

Matt gave a hum of agreement. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your night out.”

“No, it was time I left anyway.”

“You have a hangover,” Matt deduced.

Foggy groaned. “And I don’t need a reminder of that, thanks. I do have to remember to pick up my coat though. I ran out without it.”

“I’ll get it,” Matt said, sitting up. “Later-” he waved his hand, “uh, whenever they open.”

“Next Friday,” Foggy said, handing Matt a mug of coffee. Matt sniffed it and gave Foggy a look of adoration. Foggy continued, “it’s a good excuse to return – other than the fact that they have good music, that is. You should come.”

Matt took a sip of coffee in lieu of an answer. Foggy hovered for a moment before slumping into the armchair with his own cup.

“You hurt your ankle,” Matt said plainly.

“I’m not even limping. How-”

“I’ll get you some ice,” Matt interrupted, grunting as he got up off the couch.

“Leave it, it’s fine-”

Matt’s mouth twitched. “What do you always tell me…” he said with a huff of amusement.

“Okay, okay, Mr Smartypants.”

Matt pulled one of the many first aid icepacks out of the freezer, and wrapped it in a towel. As he handed it to Foggy, he said, “how did you hurt it?”

“You know me… I dance hard,” Foggy joked. He wasn’t about to admit that the injury occurred while carting Matt back to the car. He knew from experience that Matt’s guilt could be crippling.

Matt tipped his head, detecting the lie.

“You know, Danny’s been following you,” Foggy said quickly before Matt could probe further. “He’s the one-”

“I know,” Matt said, returning to the couch.

“He thinks you don’t.”

Matt snorted. “What, he thinks I can’t hear him crashing around a couple of blocks behind me? For a guy who supposedly outsmarted a dragon, he can be pretty naïve at times.”

“You gonna tell him you know?”

Matt thought for a moment, giving Daisy an ear massage all the while. “No, I think I’ll wait a bit. If he’s going to come out with me, I’d rather the silent, distant version of Danny.” He scratched lazily at the stubble on this chin. After a moment’s thought, he added, “besides, it’s been rather helpful.”

“Yeah, he listened to the seizure first aid instructions Claire and I gave him,” Foggy said. “Amazing, huh.”

“Not last night – I mean, sure he was helpful last night. But I’ve been following this – uh, I-I’ve found myself in a few situations where it’s been helpful to have someone beating up criminals flooding the scene before they even get there. He’s a good, er, fortress…or, I don’t know the best word for it…” he petered off, too tired to think.

Foggy sat forward, stunned at Matt’s unusual frankness. “Matt, you’re totally using him. You have to tell him. Tell him thanks for last night at the very least.”

Matt hummed a non-committal “maybe”, a glazed expression on his face.

Foggy said, “what have you _and Danny_ been following?”

“Oh, uh…”

“Come on, Matt. Fair’s fair. I pick you up, you tell me what you’re investigating. You never know - I might even be able to help, you know, as your sidekick at all… or is Danny your sidekick now?”

Matt waved at Foggy to stop. “Danny is not my sidekick, Foggy. Not now, not ever.” He took a slow sip of coffee before saying, “if you must know, there are people being drugged. This drug – it induces what appears to be psychotic episodes. People hallucinate, get violent, lose all inhibitions.”

“I don’t know if I like the idea of you being around those people.”

Matt tipped his head back with a groan of frustration. “See? This is why I don’t tell you.”

“I never said I was forbidding you from going, Matt. I just expressed concern…like a normal person.”

Matt took a deep breath. “Okay, okay... There’s one thread that connects these people: They’re criminals – all types – everything from minor corner dealers to white collar criminals.”

“So these people are already dangerous,” Foggy said slowly, “and these drugs are just fuelling the flame.”

“Exactly. The police just think that there’s a new drug on the market – that people are taking it voluntarily and then claiming later that they’d been drugged. I mean, let’s face it – these people aren’t exactly honest at the best of times.”

“Shit,” Foggy said, getting up from his armchair and perching next to Matt on the couch. He leaned in and said in a low voice, “do you know who’s doing it?”

Matt shook his head. “It’s far reaching. I’m struggling to even keep track of everyone, let alone find a link.”

“We could write it down. Maybe I could spot links where-”

“I just – argh. I can’t even remember what happened last night, Foggy.” Matt clenched his fists in frustration. “These stupid seizures are slowing me down.”

“Talk to Danny. Maybe he knows what happened. Or we could talk through it. Step by step, tell me where you went and maybe it’ll come back.”

Matt shook his head. “Not now. I can’t think.” He rubbed his eyes. “What’s the time?”

“10am.”

“You smell like sweat.”

“I had a shower, thank you very much,” Foggy said in mock offence.

“Certain sweats linger. You were afraid,” Matt said bluntly. He slid his empty mug onto the table and curled up sideways on the couch, closing his eyes. “Sorry for disturbing your dancing,” he mumbled.

Foggy rolled his eyes. “I’d rather leave the dance floor than not be informed about the seizure. Remember, the plan only works if we both stick to it.”

Matt hummed in reluctant agreement. “Thanks Fog,” he mumbled into the couch cushion. Within a couple of minutes, he was asleep.

* * *

 

That night, the snow started to fall. While Matt made his usual grumbly remarks about snow drifts and wet feet, Foggy was ecstatic. Staring out the window at the fluffy white flakes, Foggy said, “come to Central Park with me, Matt. Please?”

“No, it’s snowing,” Matt said, hugging his mug of tea close to his chest. He’d had a small seizure early afternoon, and was feeling tired and morose. He usually had at least a couple of days in between seizures, and felt cheated out of an important weekend recovery day.

“Exactly.” Foggy looked down at Daisy, who was sitting next to Matt’s feet at the base of the couch. “I bet Daze would like snow.”

“She’ll get cold,” Matt said, patting Daisy with his socked foot. She looked up at Matt with absolute devotion and lithely jumped onto the couch, snuggling into Matt’s woollen throw.

“She can wear that coat you made her – which by the way, you need to replace with something safer. Did you contact your techno-whizz costume guy?”

Matt snorted at Foggy’s name for Melvin Potter. “He’s onto it,” Matt replied, pulling the throw up to his chin. When Matt asked Melvin for a suit for Daisy a month ago, the inventor extraordinaire was thrilled with the challenge. But Melvin couldn’t be rushed and judging from the sounds of frustration Matt had overheard standing outside Melvin’s workshop last week, the dog’s suit was not yet complete. Between the post-seizure malaise and the snow that was now falling thick and fast, Matt wasn’t in much of a rush to go out anyway. It hurt to accept it, but solving the mystery of the Hell’s Kitchen druggings would have to wait.


	3. Snow

When they woke up the next morning, New York was covered in a thick blanket of snow.

“While you go to Sunday mass, the rest of New York is heading to the park,” Foggy called from the kitchen as Matt crawled out of bed. “Sure you don’t want to skip church? We have a cloudless sky. Perfect for tobogganing.”

“Very sure,” Matt said, chuckling at Foggy’s near child-like enthusiasm.

“Let me walk you to church at least,” Foggy said, knowing full well that Matt’s senses weren’t super enough to negotiate the sound-dampening snowdrifts as much as Matt would like, particularly as he’d now had seizures two days in a row. The mountains of ploughed snow at each street corner drove Matt crazy, and had been the subject of many a seasonal rant.

Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay,” he finally said. “Thanks, Fog. M’gonna have a shower.” He wandered slowly into the bathroom and gingerly stepped into the shower, standing under the hot water for as long as possible. His muscles ached post-seizure and he could feel the blood pulsing through his throbbing head. The last thing he wanted to do was leave the house and battle the cold and the damp (not to mention his chatty fellow church goers) – but he’d promised his ten-year-old blind mentee, Julia, that he’d be there, and he couldn’t afford to let her down.

The first three months of the mentorship were continually interrupted by Matt’s mostly seizure-related hospitalizations. Since he’d learned of Julia’s own enhanced senses and strength, and she in turn had learned about his senses and fighting abilities, they’d been meeting up twice-weekly: on Tuesdays for martial arts at Colleen’s dojo, and Sundays after church for other general skill development. She was incredibly talented, but still quite undisciplined. Matt constantly struggled with the balance between wanting to be firm and push her to achieve her full potential, and avoiding the trap of behaving like his own mentor, Stick, whose methods were often cruel.

 

Matt timed his deliberately anti-social arrival perfectly, slipping through the church doors just as the first chord of the organ sounded. Everyone was seated and paying attention to the hymn sheets, rather than the slightly damp and rattled man up the back. Julia and her mother, Elizabeth, were waiting for him in his favoured back row. As he stepped sideways along the bench, Julia whispered, “Matt, Matt, your sheets,” waving the specially printed braille hymns and readings in his direction. He whispered back a thanks and fumbled a little with his cane, eventually just tucking it under the bench, still unfolded. He was always clumsy in the 24 hours after a seizure. His fingers turned into thumbs and his spatial awareness wasn’t great. As the hymn finished and the congregation was ordered to sit, Matt rubbed his hands on his pants, desperately trying to get his fingers to unfreeze. Sensing what he was trying to do, Julia reached over and took one of his hands in hers, her fingers cosy warm and dry. It warmed his heart as much as his hand.

After the service, Matt loitered in the dark corner of the church while Elizabeth and Julia visited the bathroom. One of his former Nelson & Murdock clients, Tabitha, rushed up and urged him to join the others for the usual post-mass tea and cake, but Matt stuttered an excuse about waiting for Julia where she could find him, which seemed to satisfy Tabitha… at least for now. As she pottered off into the adjoining community space, Father Lantom approached, his steps steady and slow.

“Matthew,” he said. “How are you?”

Matt smiled. “Much better than last time we spoke, father.”

“No more hospital visits then?”

“No, Daisy has made sure of that,” Matt replied. “She gives me ample warning. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Father Lantom hummed in agreement. His breath hitched as he went to say something, hesitated then closed his mouth again.

“Are-” they both started at once before apologising and urging the other to speak. Eventually Lantom said, “I’ve been meaning to ask - do you know anything about this mysterious hooded vigilante? The one initially rumoured to be Daredevil?”

Matt’s mouth quirked before straightening again. “A little.”

Lantom nodded. “I wondered.” The priest stared at Matt, trying to decipher his mostly neutral expression. “Well, I guess you’re waiting for Julia now. I hope-” Lantom hesitated and said, “please be careful. You, _Matthew Murdock_ , are dearly loved within the community.” Lantom paused as he reconsidered how best to phrase an offer of help to his most challenging parishioner. “My door is always open if you want a latte,” Father Lantom eventually said.

Matt picked at the strap on his cane. “I-I’d like that. Thank you, Father.”

They were interrupted by Julia, who skipped in excitement by her mother’s side as they made their way back to Matt. She tugged at Matt’s arm, “Matt, Matt, Matt, can we go play in the snow?”

Matt opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came. “Uh-”

“Can we go to the park with a toboggan? Please!”

“Julia’s never seen snow. The closest we got to snow in Arizona was the fake stuff they spray on window displays every December,” Elizabeth explained. “She spent half of last night with her hand out the window catching snowflakes – which of course melted on impact,” Elizabeth laughed.

Matt bit his bottom lip as he racked his brains, trying to come up with an excuse not to visit the park. No excuse seemed in any way significant enough to counter Julia’s excitement though. In the end, he ventured, “Foggy wanted to go to the park. We could see what he’s up to.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Julia shrieked.

Father Lantom gave a huff of amusement. “If you’ll excuse me, I might join the others for tea. Mrs Baxter has made a rather experimental-looking coffee cake that she desperately wants me to try.” Matt smiled. Mrs Baxter’s ‘creative’ approach to baking was legendary amongst the congregation. Her successes were extraordinary, but her failures, well, let’s just say that Matt tended to avoid all her experiments.

Julia tugged on Matt’s coat. “Call Foggy. _Please_.”

Matt sighed and pulled out his phone. Of course, Foggy was thrilled with the plan, and turned up with Daisy at the church in record time.

It seemed that it was all pre-planned. Julia retrieved the toboggan that she’d left at the church entrance in anticipation of this moment, grabbing hold of Foggy as they left the grounds. Matt hung back, leaning against the church door.

“Come on, Matt,” Foggy called over his shoulder. “You’ll enjoy it when you get there.”

Foggy thankfully had enough years of practice guiding Matt that it was second nature to him, even with the added challenge of an excited short-statured girl and the corner snowdrifts. Foggy and Julia excitedly swapped tobogganing notes all the way to the park. Matt heard Foggy tell a rapt Julia, “this one year, the duck pond was completely frozen and we built a course that went from the bridge and snaked down the bank and across the pond to the other side.”

With Daisy tucked under one arm, Matt trailed behind with Elizabeth, chatting about Julia’s martial arts training. Matt was pleased to learn that Julia’s tantrums had lessened in the two and a half months since the martial arts training had commenced, and what’s more, the school had finally included her in gym class following Elizabeth’s complaints (“as they’re legally obligated to”, Matt reminded her).

As they waited on a street corner for the lights to change, Julia poked at one of the ploughed snow piles with her cane. She giggled as she bored at hole in the snow, leaping forward and climbing up onto the pile. “Julia, get down from there,” Elizabeth barked. Julia giggled and jumped back down, slipping a little on the ice so that her feet slid out from beneath her. Foggy managed to catch her just before she hit the ground. “Thank you, Foggy,” Elizabeth said. “Julia, you owe Foggy a thank you too.”

“Thank you, Foggy,” Julia parroted. She stood still for five seconds before shrieking, “again!” She tugged at Foggy’s arm, and Matt wearily called, “Julia, wait for the park. The snow on these corners is icky, whereas the park has massive drifts of fluffy clean snow.”

“Oh, okay,” Julia said demurely, and Foggy and Elizabeth exchanged an eye roll. For some reason, Julia listened to Matt over everyone else.

Once they’d crossed the road, Elizabeth said, “at least Foggy’s got good reflexes when it comes to guiding.” They watched as Foggy quickly guided Julia around a particularly icy patch.

“Well, he had good practice at college. Try guiding a drunk blind guy when you’re also drunk,” Matt laughed, remembering the messy walk home from a mid-winter party in their first year at Columbia.

When they got into the park, Julia immediately jumped into the toboggan. Matt gave her Daisy to nurse, and Foggy dragged the two of them to the duck pond. Whatever hopes Matt had of keeping Daisy dry and warm were dashed when she and Julia started digging a hole in the snow together. Daisy had learned from their beach trip that digging holes resulted in encouraging laughs and pats from the humans, so she dug away, spurred on by Julia’s shrieks of delight.

As Elizabeth crouched down to encourage Julia to build a snowman, rather than dig a hole, Matt whispered to Foggy, “do not try and toboggan on the duck pond this time.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll fall through the ice. It’s only an inch thick at best.”

“Oh.”

“Was the fabled track built during a particularly cold year?”

Foggy shrugged. “It’s become almost mythical through retelling. Who knows.”

Matt gave Foggy a playful punch. “At least it’s not the butcher story.”

Foggy chuckled. “I’m saving that one.” He looked at Matt’s pale face and hunched shoulders. “Hey, are you feeling okay?”

Matt rubbed his gloved hands together. “Just tired. If I were at home, I’d probably be asleep.”

“Okay, well maybe we’ll do a couple of toboggan runs and then you can suggest a hot chocolate or something.”

Matt nodded and pulled his scarf further over his chin and mouth. “Deal.”

Foggy crunched his way over to the snowman-in-progress. “Julia, do you want to try a toboggan run?”

“Yes!” Julia leapt up with a whoop, sending Daisy skittering away to Matt’s feet. He scooped up the dog, and tucked her under his arm to warm her up, dampness be damned. He smiled a little as he heard Julia say, “Foggy, you promise to catch me if I keep going?”

“There’s a dip at the bottom to stop you, but yes, I promise.”

There was a shriek as Foggy let go and Julia slid the five feet to the dip. “That was too short,” she announced, tripping over the lumps of snow as she trudged back up the slope.

“Okay,” Foggy said in a sing-song voice. “You asked for it.” He led her another five feet up the slope and helped her into the toboggan. She laughed all the way down, coming back for more another five rides.

Matt thought he’d escaped attention thanks to Foggy’s enthusiastic involvement, but Julia eventually turned her attention back to Matt. “Matt, you need to do it.”

“Nooo… I have to look after Daisy. She’s cold,” Matt said, with a nervous laugh. “I think Foggy might want a go though.”

“Do you?”

“Sure,” Foggy replied brightly. “I love me a good slope.”

Matt sighed as he heard Foggy laugh his way down the slope once, twice and three times, before Julia demanded another two goes.

“Mom?” she said, “do you want a go?”

“No, I’m going to keep Matt company.”

“Matt, you need to have a go,” Julia said. “Pleeeease, Matt.”

“Just once,” Foggy teased, and Matt gave Foggy what he hoped was a fear-inducing glare.

Foggy just laughed. “If facial expressions could kill. Come on, Matty. I’ll hold Daisy.”

“Come on, Matty,” Julia parroted, stumbling over to Matt with her arms outstretched. She threw herself at Matt’s legs and tugged at his overcoat.

Matt closed his eyes. “If I do this can we go get a hot chocolate straight after?”

Julia paused, thinking it was a trick. “Uh, sure?”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Elizabeth said, bouncing up and down for warmth.

Matt handed Daisy to Foggy and said, “what do I do?”

“Uh, you never tobogganed before?”

Matt smiled. “Yeah, but on a tray stolen from a fast food joint, not a fancy toboggan.”

“Meh, same principles,” Foggy said. “Just get in and I’ll give you a push.”

“I’m quite happy to let gravity do its thing without a push, thanks, Fog.”

Foggy rolled his eyes at Matt’s obviously unenthusiastic tone. “Dude, you’ve done far more dangerous things than slide ten feet down a slope. You gotta stop grumbling.”

“Yeah, stop grumbling,” Julia echoed.

Matt crouched in the toboggan and felt a lurch of dread as it picked up speed. He gritted his teeth as it jerked and rattled over a couple of lumps, closing his eyes in relief when it finally drew to a halt.

“Fun, eh,” Foggy said, brightly, crunching his way down the hill to rescue the pathetic-looking Matt.

“Let’s get that hot chocolate,” Matt replied.

As they made their way through the park to the kiosk, every scream of delight from the kids of Central Park seemed to burrow directly into Matt’s brain. He closed his eyes as he walked silently beside Foggy, clutching Foggy’s left arm like it was going to disappear if he didn’t keep a firm hold. Julia kept up a monologue the entire walk, which at least meant that Matt wasn’t expected to contribute. As they neared the kiosk, Matt gritted his teeth. The wave of kids screaming about marshmallows and wet mittens and _the unfairness that so-and-so got cream and chocolate topping_ hit him all at once and he stopped still, desperate just to get away.

“What is it, Matt?” Foggy asked, trying to keep Daisy from wiggling out from beneath his right arm. Daisy managed to break free and jumped up at Matt’s knees, letting out small whines. “Oh fuck,” Foggy said before remembering that the impressionable Julia was standing right next to him. “I mean- I mean, it’s okay. Uh, quick, let’s get to the kiosk. They might have a back room we can use.”

“No, Fog,” Matt moaned. “I want to go – not in there, no…” He turned around and tried to orient himself, but he’d stopped concentrating after the duck pond, happy just to be led by Foggy. Panicking, he tried to track the traffic ringing the park, but that didn’t tell him much either.

“What’s wrong?” Julia said in small voice, judging from Matt’s tone that this wasn’t just him being grumbly.

Foggy bit his lip, “he’s about to have a seizure and we need to get him somewhere warm and safe.” He grabbed Matt’s arm, “come on, buddy, we need to be quick about this.”

Matt seemed confused about exactly what he wanted, and ultimately let Foggy lead him towards the kiosk, which fortunately had a large back of house space with a couch.

“You can go if you want,” Foggy said to Elizabeth as Matt was quickly led over to the couch. He gave her a meaningful look, hoping that she’d get the hint. He figured Matt might be calmer if he knew there were fewer observers.

“Let’s go get a hot chocolate, Julia,” Elizabeth said loudly. “We’ll give Matt some privacy, okay?”

Matt seized just as they reached the couch, and Foggy caught him just in time, awkwardly lowering him onto the cushions as he started convulsing.

“Does it hurt?” Julia asked, her brow furrowed.

“He’s unconscious right now, but when he wakes up he hurts. He gets a bit confused too. Do you know what to do if you’re the only one around when Matt has a seizure?” Foggy kept one eye on Matt, but figured it was as good a time as any to teach Julia about seizure first aid. She’d been alone with him once before when he’d had a seizure, but that had been when she was visiting him in hospital. She’d run from the room, crying and confused.

Julia shook her head. “No.”

“Okay, well first, I have to time him. I have my phone out with a stopwatch, but you can use your wrist watch. We do that so that if he’s still seizing after five minutes, we call an ambulance.” He paused and added, “but you can call 911 if you don’t feel confident alone. No pressure.”

Foggy quickly showed Julia how he moved stray objects out of the way, and moved Matt into the recovery position on his side as soon as it was safe to. She murmured the occasional yes to Foggy’s “do you understand?” but other than that, she was uncharacteristically quiet.

“What does he do now?” she asked when the convulsions stopped.

“We wait for him to wake up. Put your hand in his.” Foggy led Julia’s hand to Matt’s. “Now, ask Matt to squeeze your hand.”

Julia repeated the command, but Matt still didn’t rouse.

“Why isn’t he doing it?” she said in a small voice.

“We need to be patient. His brain needs to recover from the seizure.” Matt shifted slightly on the couch, and Foggy urged, “try again.”

“Matt, squeeze my hand,” she said in a slightly louder voice.

“That’s good. Tell him where you are, who you are, what happened, and that you’ll stay with him until he wakes up,” Foggy prompted.

“Matt, you’re at- at the hot chocolate place, uh, I’m Julia – and- and Foggy and mo-Elizabeth…”

“You’ve had a seizure,” Foggy prompted.

“You’ve had a seizure,” Julia repeated. “I will stay here until you’re awake.”

“Good, Julia. Did he squeeze your hand?”

“No,” she said.

“Okay, try again.”

“But he’s not doing it,” she said, her voice wavering.

“He will,” Foggy said softly, rubbing Matt’s shoulder. “If he doesn’t do it in ten minutes, we’ll call an ambulance, but we just need to be patient for now.”

Julia leaned in and said quickly, “Matt, squeeze my hand, squeeze my hand, squeeze my hand-”

“Gently, calmly,” Elizabeth said, but Julia became overwhelmed by the whole situation. A couple of tears rolled down her cheeks.

Foggy clasped Matt’s other hand, and said, “Matty, can you hear me? It’s Foggy, and Julia and Elizabeth are here too. You had a seizure. Can you squeeze my hand, buddy? …or say something… come on, Matty.”

Matt gave both hands a small squeeze. “He did it!” Julia squealed, and Matt wrinkled his face in pain.

“Shhh… soft voice,” Foggy urged her. He turned back to Matt, “hey Matt, can you speak to me please. Let me know you’re okay, and then you can rest.”

Matt mumbled something unintelligible.

“Good, Matt. I have some water here if you want it.”

“Mmm…”

“Julia, we need to sit him up a bit so that he doesn’t inhale the water, okay. Oh, and if you’re alone with him, you’ll probably have to wait for him to recover a bit longer and sit up himself because he’s pretty heavy.” Foggy rubbed his forehead. This was probably too much information for the little girl.

“I can lift him,” Julia said, clumsily pulling Matt upright. Matt gave a pained groan as he slumped against the back of the couch.

“Uh, so you can,” Foggy said, his voice wavering. “I didn’t realise you were so strong. Uh, so, in that case, just remember to be gentle because he’s in pain after a seizure.”

“Foh, w’ar,” Matt breathed.

“Yep, got the water. Here it is,” Foggy said, lifting the cup to Matt’s mouth.

“What does the water do?” Julia asked.

“Uh, that’s a good question. He just- he likes it. I don’t know why. I don’t know if it’s normal, but-but it’s a good way of knowing if he’s awake after a seizure I guess. He reacts to the promise of water. Oh, but don’t give him any water if he’s not awake and asking for it. It might go down the wrong pipe otherwise.”

“Oh.” Julia let go of Matt’s hand.

“Keep holding Matt’s hand, Julia. He’ll know you’re there that way. That’s a girl.”

If Matt objected to this literal hands-on demonstration of seizure first aid, he didn’t say anything. When he started sliding sideways down the couch, Foggy said, “right, we’ll let you sleep for a little while now, Matty.”

“More sleep?” Julia asked.

“Yeah, he tends to sleep a couple of hours, and he’s usually pretty tired for a couple of days after that. Sore too.”

“Why?”

“That’s another lesson I think,” Foggy told Julia. “But now, I think you deserve a hot chocolate for doing such a good job. And Matt needs rest.” In truth, Foggy was going to try and get him up in half an hour or so. Matt’s cheeks were flushed with cold and his pants were damp from the tobogganing. He hated having to move Matt immediately after a seizure, but at least the kiosk was on the park’s perimeter with plenty of cabs nearby.

Elizabeth took the little girl’s hand. “Jules, why don’t we grab some hot chocolates next door. We can get one for Foggy too.”

Julia furrowed her brow. “And Matt-”

“Maybe next time,” Foggy said gently. “He’ll get a hot chocolate with you next Sunday, okay?”

They returned with a hot chocolate for Foggy as promised, and after they’d finished, Foggy started with the difficult task of rousing Matt. Predictably, Matt grumbled a no when Foggy tried to put his hand under Matt’s armpit. “Come on, Matty. Wouldn’t you rather be at home?”

“Nnn…sleep.”

“Yeah I know. But you’re cold. I think you should come home where it’s warm.’

“Ngh.”

Foggy sat down on the couch, and said in a sanguine tone, “we’ll help you, Matty. You don’t have to do it on your own.”

“We’ll help you, Matty,” Julia parroted.

At the sound of Julia’s voice, Matt lifted his head.

“Good work, Matt. I’ll take one arm, and Elizabeth, could you take the other?” But Julia was already lifting Matt upright. Foggy was glad Matt had told him about Julia’s enhanced hearing and unusual strength, but it still surprised him.

Foggy looked at the bank of snow outside the kiosk and grabbed Julia’s toboggan. “Here, Matt. Get into the toboggan and I’ll drag you out of here.”

Julia giggled.

“No,” Matt grumbled. He leaned heavily against Foggy’s side, eyes closed.

“Matt, I’ll drag you,” Julia said excitedly. “I can do it. Please!”

Matt didn’t say no, so Foggy more or less lowered Matt into the toboggan. He waited for the protest, but it didn’t come.

“Matt, hold Daisy,” Foggy ordered, knowing that the small dog would at least focus Matt’s attention. Daisy was placed in his arms, and she nuzzled into his chest. Foggy grunted as he pulled the toboggan towards the road. Julia yelped, “can I do it? I’m strong. Even Matt says so.” Foggy led her hand to the end of the rope, and almost fell over as Julia started to pull, her strength far outweighing Foggy’s own. “Uh, maybe we could go a bit slower,” Foggy suggested. “We don’t want Matt to fall out. Let’s pull together, one step at a time, okay?”

Julia shrugged. “Okay.”

Foggy looked at Elizabeth, who had one gloved hand over her mouth. Julia’s increased strength couldn’t have gone unnoticed to her own mother, but as far as Foggy knew, Matt hadn’t had that conversation with Elizabeth yet.

Matt wasn’t one to volunteer discussions about delicate issues, so that night over a dinner of toast and eggs, Foggy asked, “Matt, do you know the limits of Julia’s strength?”

“Uh, I have an idea. I haven’t tested it. Why?”

“She can take your weight. That’s not normal for a ten-year-old girl.”

“I know. I told you. She’s strong.”

“Have you talked to Elizabeth about it?”

“No- not really,” he mumbled, taking a small bite of his toast and chewing slowly.

“You’re going to have to at some point.”

Matt sighed and closed his eyes. Why did Foggy always insist on talking about things?

Foggy changed the topic. “So, three seizures, three days in a row. Do you need to see the neurologist? Maybe the new medication isn’t working.”

Matt shook his head. “I’m tired. I’ll see how I feel in a few days.”

“Maybe you should hold off your night time activities for a while. You know tiredness is a trigger.”

Matt ate a spoonful of egg and sat back in his chair. “I have to get to the bottom of these druggings, Fog.”

“You need to avoid seizure triggers too.”

“You’re not my real dad,” Matt joked, and Foggy decided to drop it. If Matt wasn’t going to take the issue seriously, then he’d try again tomorrow. Sometimes he did feel a bit like a parent.

* * *

 

The following morning, Foggy tentatively knocked on Matt’s bedroom door. The mess of hair sticking out from beneath the sheets moved, but there was no other response. “Uh, Matt?”

Nothing.

“Are you okay to come to work?”

Matt gave a groan and pushed back the blankets. He rubbed his face with a “mmm…”

“You don’t have to. Three days in a row, you must be tired.”

“I… yes, I am.”

Foggy saw just the fact that Matt admitted to tiredness as a win. They’d come a long way since Matt’s initial head injury, but Matt still lapsed into secretive mode now and again. “Stay home for the day. You have your laptop so you can do boring things like check your emails-”

“But the class action-”

“Will still be there tomorrow to work on. I’ll see if Candy can work today,” Foggy said, referring to the fourth member of the Nelson & Murdock company. They’d employed Candy as a temp lawyer when Matt’s seizures were at a peak, but was now more or less a permanent staff member, even if she did mostly work from home.

“I can come in,” Matt said, struggling out of bed.

“You can’t afford to get overtired. You know that’s a trigger.”

Matt sighed and sat on the side of the bed, burying his head in his hands. “You’re right. I’ll stay home. I promise I’ll do some work.”

Matt stretched and pulled the blankets up to his neck, listening as Foggy prepared for work, humming as he searched for his wallet. He concentrated on Foggy’s heavy footsteps down the stairs, eventually losing track once he joined the migration of commuters on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Daisy snuggled into the small of Matt’s back, and he used it as an excuse to stay in bed. He felt tired and heavy.

Matt woke up three hours later to a phone call from Foggy. “Were you asleep?”

“Uh, Yeah,” Matt said guiltily.

“That’s cool. I just wanted to see if you’ve seen the email from Johnson & Smart. They want to set up a meeting. This might be them wanting to settle, Matt.”

Matt sat up with a small groan and opened the laptop Foggy had placed too precariously on the side of the bed. “Give me a moment”, Matt said, trying to plug in his Braille reader with shaking hands.

“I’ll read it to you,” Foggy offered. “It just won’t be as fast as your rabbit setting, but it’s probably quicker than whatever’s making you grunt in the background.”

Matt asked once Foggy had read it through, “you got that they want to settle from that?”

“No,” Foggy groaned, “they want to meet, so I just thought…”

“We’re not going to settle. This needs to be out in the open. They need to be exposed.”

There was an audible sigh from Foggy’s end of the phone. “Matt, can you just stop your grandstanding for a moment. We’ll go to the meeting, listen to what they have to say, and if they have an offer, we present it to our clients. Simple.”

“But then it’s all swept under the rug. We need to expose them. Show the world how crooked they are.”

“I know, Matt. And I know that cases involving toxic waste and children are particularly emotional for you-”

“This isn’t about me,” Matt snapped, but he could practically hear Foggy’s eye roll through his phone.

“Okay, not about you. I’ll set up a meeting for Wednesday oh-distant-one.” There was a silence from Matt’s end, so Foggy added, “uh, I’ll see you tonight. I’ll get some dinner on the way home.”

Matt stretched, feeling guilty for his slothful morning. “I can – hmmm – yeah, that’d be great. Th-thanks, Fog.”

 

Come afternoon, Matt was fidgety. He’d managed to work his way through the more urgent emails and had done a bit more work on the class action suit, but his ability to work at home was somewhat hampered by the fact that the case files were all on his desk at the office. He tucked his feet up onto the couch and patted his lap as encouragement to Daisy. Thrilled, she leapt up and they spend a good ten minutes just sitting there together in contemplation.

Matt recalled his promised to Foggy. He needed to pick up Daisy’s armoured Devildog suit – the one he’d commissioned Melvin to make. Although Matt was less than keen to battle the melting snow mounds on the street corners, he could probably walk there and back in half an hour and get dinner supplies for Foggy on the way home.

As Matt neared Melvin’s workshop, he stopped for a moment, leaning against a brick wall. He rubbed his forehead. He was tired just from the walk, and his senses post-seizure were too muted for his liking. He stepped away from the wall with a small groan, stashing his cane and Daisy in his backpack, pulling his hood up, and tucking his glasses in his hoodie pocket. Melvin has guessed about his blindness a few months back, but as far as Matt could tell, he didn’t know that he was Matthew Murdock and he wanted it to stay that way for as long as possible.

As he drew near, Matt could hear a heartbeat from above Melvin’s work shed. It seemed a bit off, but then again, everything seemed a bit off at the moment. It was only as Matt entered the empty workshop and had found the prototype Devildog suit on a stand that he realised it wasn’t Melvin. Matt made for the door, but not before the woman appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

“Stop,” she said.

Matt froze.

“Who are you?”

Matt kept his head down. “I’m just leaving.”

“Not until you tell me who you are and what you’re doing here.”

“I’m here to see Melvin. Uh, he has something – something for me.” Matt tilted his head. “Are you- are you Betsy?”

The woman’s heart beat a little faster.

“Are you Betsy?” Matt asked again when the woman didn’t respond.

“You’re trespassing. You have to go.” The woman’s heartbeat was beating overtime in fear, but her voice didn’t waver.

“Betsy,” Matt said in a soft voice, “is everything okay with Melvin? I’m asking as a friend.”

“Melvin’s _friend_ ,” she repeated. Her scepticism was evident.

“Can I help?”

Betsy thought for a moment before deciding that Matt was telling the truth. She said plainly, “Melvin’s in trouble.”

Matt put his hands out. “Please let me help.”

Betsy swallowed. “He says he didn’t take the drugs and I believe him – the closest thing he takes to non-prescription drugs is that damn ice tea he’s always drinking.”

“I don’t understand,” Matt said. “Where is he now?”

“He’s waiting for his arraignment. The legal aid lawyer wants him to plead guilty, but I know Melvin’s not guilty.”

“I can help,” Matt said quickly. “I mean – I know some lawyers who can help.” Matt pulled out his phone and pretended to read out a number from the screen, but reciting the office phone instead. “Ask for Matt Murdock,” he said. “Tell them it’s urgent.”

“Matt Murdock,” she repeated. “Uh, Melvin doesn’t have any money.”

“I’ll cover the payment.”

“Who are you?” Betsy whispered.

Matt waved her off. “Just call Murdock. Please.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I <3 comments, so please feel free to leave a note below. 
> 
> Also, I'm trying to introduce some background stuff from the previous stories for those readers who haven't read the first two in the series, but if I've left something out or something's a bit confusing, please let me know.


	4. Mr Daredevil

Within an hour of encountering Betsy (and after a complicated multi phone call exchange between Foggy and Matt), the partners found themselves in front of Melvin Potter, who was handcuffed to the interview table at the local precinct.

“Mr Potter, my name is Matt Murdock,” Matt said, standing more stiffly than usual. He pitched his voice a little higher than usual to try and avoid the supposedly low and growly ‘Daredevil voice’ that Foggy and Karen liked to tease him about.

Melvin gave a small gasp of recognition as he put two and two together. “Mr D-d-”

Matt gave a shake of his head and interrupted with “this is Foggy Nelson.” He allowed only a brief pause before continuing, “we would like to represent you in place of your current public defence lawyer, but to continue, we need your agreement.”

“I-I-I-I don’t know, Mr-”

“Murdock,” Matt finished.

“Mur-Murdock.” Melvin stuttered.

“Or Matt is fine,” Matt said with a smile. Far from reassuring Melvin, the smile seemed to scare him even more.

Foggy looked between Matt and Melvin, trying to work out what was going on. Matt had been so insistent that they represent him that Foggy hadn’t even tried to argue otherwise. Matt had briefly mentioned the case against Melvin: that he’d attacked members of the public while under the influence. Matt claimed that he didn’t know the details, even though it was now obvious that the two of them shared some kind of history. Thanks to Saturday morning’s conversation, Foggy deduced that Melvin had been a victim of the psychosis-inducing drug, but Matt had said the victims were all criminals. Matt was adamant that they only represent innocent clients (with some exceptions due to mitigating circumstances, the exact scope of which Foggy was yet to pin down), so what was it about Melvin that was different?

Keen to break the awkwardness between Matt and Melvin, Foggy said, “Melvin, we want to help.”

Melvin looked at Foggy with wide eyes. “How-how did you know?”

Matt said, “Betsy told me.”

The mention of Betsy’s name elicited an immediate response. Melvin tugged on his handcuffs, trying to get at Matt.

“Melvin, she’s safe,” Matt said calmly. “She’s worried about you. I said I’d help.”

“You spoke to B-Betsy?”

“I did. As I said, she’s safe. I made sure of that.”

Foggy bit his lip. He had so many questions, but Melvin seemed like a match liable to spark at any moment. He said, “Melvin, we need confirmation that you want us to represent you instead of your current lawyer before we continue.”

Melvin hung his head. “I-I don’t have any money.”

“I wouldn’t even _think_ about taking money from you, Melvin,” Matt said. “You have my word that we will do our best to help you.”

Melvin looked up. “O-okay,” he said slowly.

“Is that a yes to us representing you?” Foggy clarified.

“Yes.” Melvin leaned forward and whispered, “but you have to look after Betsy. You have to.”

Matt nodded. “I will.”

Foggy got up from the table. “I’ll let the officers know that Melvin’s agreed to representation.”

As soon as Foggy left the room, Matt whispered, “you’ve saved my life more times than I can count, Melvin. I know you’re innocent and I’ll fight for you. But you need to do two things for me, okay?”

Melvin nodded.

“One, our past, er, relationship, who I am, uh, it needs to be kept between the two of us. It’s the only way I can keep you and Betsy safe.”

Melvin whispered, “of course, Mr-Mr Murdock.”

“Matt is fine.”

“M-Matt.”

“And two, you have to tell me the truth about what happened. I won’t judge. But the only way I can help you is if you’re completely honest, okay?”

Melvin nodded. “Yes, Mr… Matt.”

Foggy returned to a silent room. Matt and Melvin were sitting at the table. Matt was completely motionless, while Melvin pulled on his shirt, clearly distressed.

“It’s all sorted,” Foggy said, pulling out his notebook. “If you’re ready, Melvin, we can take your statement.”

 

Matt and Foggy managed to coax enough from Melvin to explain at least _some_ of the police report. However, between the police report, Melvin’s statement and Betsy’s statement, they had more than enough for the arraignment hearing the following day.

Foggy stared as the shaking man was led away after the interview. How Melvin could go from a shy man to a circular saw-wielding assailant still surprised Foggy. Matt was less surprised. He’d encountered another more volatile side of Melvin on a few occasions. Matt’s own fuse was relatively short, and so Melvin’s reactive behaviour sadly didn’t seem all that remarkable.

By the time they left the station, the sun had long gone down and the last of the commuters were crunching home through the snow. Matt rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, the drama-induced adrenaline suddenly dropping off.

“So much for your day off, huh,” Foggy said, hailing a cab.

“Sorry, Foggy, I’ll explain when we get home.”

“Yes, you will,” Foggy said. He looked at his watch. “After we get something to eat though. Let’s go get something cheap and cheerful, and _then_ you can tell me about Melvin.”

 

* * *

 

“So _that’s_ the guy who made your costume and your weapon cane and your airbag hoodie,” Foggy said, standing over Matt.

“Foggy, can you sit down please,” Matt said from his seat at the kitchen table. He was kneading his knuckles into his thigh, unimpressed with the tone of Foggy’s interrogation.

Foggy ignored the request, but took a step back at least. “He doesn’t seem like the type-”

“You’ve seen his work, Foggy.”

“I-”

“And you know better than to judge a book by its cover,” Matt snapped.

Foggy ran his fingers through his hair. “I know,” he said in a more sanguine tone. “I’m not- argh, never mind ... how did you meet him again?”

“Fisk.”

“He works for Fisk?”

“No! No-he was threatened. He was under duress.”

“Is he still working for Fisk? That would explain why he was targeted with the drug.”

“No, he stopped when I promised to protect Betsy. He made me that suit. A symbol. He’s a good man, Foggy.”

“Hang on, you mean to say Melvin came up with the devil idea?”

Matt gave a small smile, “well, yeah.”

Foggy murmured, “I _knew_ it.”

“What?”

“Oh, Karen and I had a bet,” Foggy chuckled.

Matt sat up straight. “You what?”

“Oh, no no no… no more distractions,” Foggy said, finally joining Matt at the table. “Tell me more about Melvin.”

“Uh, well, he’s an incredible inventor, but quite childlike in many respects. He has a complicated relationship with Betsy”

“Ah yes, Betsy. Who is she?”

“From what I can tell, she’s a kind of case worker. But it’s more than that - Melvin is obsessed with keeping her safe, and people have used her in the past to threaten him.”

“And it’s worked,” Foggy said. He thought for a moment, then said in a low and conspiratorial tone, “so the drugging isn’t about blackmail, otherwise they’d target Betsy, not Melvin.”

Matt rubbed the bristly stubble on his chin as he considered Foggy’s theory. “You’re right. Is it a warning of some kind?”

“Or just an attempt to keep him locked up. Do you think anyone knows he made Daredevil’s suit?”

“No,” Matt said. He rubbed his chin again and added, “Uh, I don’t _think_ so.”

They sat in silence for a minute, mulling over the possibilities. Finally, Foggy said, “did the other victims have ties to Fisk? That could be the common link.”

Matt ran through the list in his head. “Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes, Uh, not sure, Yes, probably.”

“Shit. I thought we’d left it all behind.”

“Sorry, Foggy. I’ve dragged you back into this. You can step away. You don’t have to be involved in Melvin’s case.”

“Matt, I’m already invested. The moment you went back out there and started investigating these druggings, I was involved. I’m not backing out now.” He paused. “Are you _sure_ Melvin’s on your side?”

“Positive.”

Foggy sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Okay. Here’s what I propose we do: you go to bed- no, don’t give me that face.” Matt tried to neutralise his face, but Foggy continued, “you’re fucking tired, Matt. You’ll be useless tomorrow if you have a seizure due to lack of sleep. So we both go to bed now, and we’ll get up early and work on the arraignment again.”

“I promised him, Foggy.”

“You promised you’d do your best and that means not pulling all-nighters that puts your health at risk. We already have more than enough information for the arraignment.”

Matt rolled his eyes and angrily pushed his chair away from the table.

“What are you doing?” Foggy asked sharply as Matt wandered towards the kitchen.

“Making a cup of tea. Is that allowed?”

Foggy narrowed his eyes. “What kind of tea?”

Matt gave a frustrated sigh. “Just – don’t talk down to me, Foggy. I’m not made of glass.” He flicked on the kettle with more force than necessary and said, “do you want one? Green, _no caffeine_ ,” he added with emphasis.

“No thanks,” Foggy said, packing up his laptop. “I’m going to bed. Early start and all.”

Matt huffed as he turned back to the kettle. He dearly wanted to go out and investigate Melvin’s involvement, but Foggy was right. He was tired, and if he had a seizure before or during the arraignment, he’d be furious with himself. “It’s just an arraignment,” Matt mumbled to himself. “Simple. Keep it simple.”

 

* * *

 

“Matt,” Foggy said, shaking his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, wake up. We have to prepare for Melvin’s arraignment hearing.”

Matt rolled over with a start. “Shit. What time is it?”

“Just after six AM. But it’s okay, we have plenty of time. I just wanted to check – you slept through your alarm again.”

“Oh,” Matt croaked. He hated the fact that the epilepsy affected his sleep. He’d always considered sleep a waste of time, and now his body seemed to demand it more than ever. With that thought, he scowled, rolled out of bed, and stalked towards the bathroom.

Misinterpreting Matt’s mood as anxiety about the case, Foggy called after Matt, “it’ll be okay.”

Matt’s mood switched from irritable to action mode after a coffee and the walk to the office. As they set up in the conference room to prepare for Melvin’s arraignment, Matt repeated his words from last night, “we need to keep it simple, Foggy. Forget we know about the other druggings.”

“But information about the other incidents might help his case, Matt.”

“No, I don’t want the judge to associate Melvin with those criminals. We need to establish Melvin as a mild-mannered, innocent victim.”

“It’s going to be hard considering the charges. He went after people with circular saw blades. _And_ he was in a costume.”

Matt slumped a little. The costume did hint at premeditation. “Did his costume resemble any character, say, from a movie or cartoon?”

Foggy hummed. “Not sure… hang on, I’ll google it.”

“We should have asked him,” Matt grumbled.

“We’ll ask him at the courthouse. We’ll have an hour or so with him, Matt. Chill.”

Matt mumbled something unintelligible under his breath back at Foggy, who ignored it and turned back to the computer. “Nothing that I can find,” he said, scrolling through the images. “But maybe Karen could find something when she arrives. She’s a whizz at these things.”

“I’ll text her,” Matt quickly said.

“It’s seven in the morning. Unless you want to explain to Karen who Melvin is to you, I’d leave it until she comes into work.”

Matt put away his phone. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Foggy.” He rubbed his forehead. “I – I just – I feel like I owe him so much.”

“I know,” Foggy said patiently. “Let’s get back to our key argument then. It’ll be hard to get the charges dismissed at the arraignment, but we’ll try.”

 

* * *

 

Five hours later, Foggy found himself pulling Matt into the men’s bathroom at the courthouse to calm the irate man down. The judge was notorious for his hard-line stance against drugs, and even though the lawyers were arguing that Melvin was an innocent victim who was drugged against his will, the judge seemed to have his blinkers on.

“You knew it was always going to be a long shot getting the charges dismissed at this stage,” Foggy said, holding onto Matt’s arm. “At least he was granted bail. Although I don’t know where he’s going to get all that money from.”

“I’ll deal with it,” Matt said, tugging his arm free. He splashed some water on his face and gave a growl when he realised the paper towel dispenser was empty.

Foggy handed him a tissue. “Your own money? Do you want to risk it?”

“Thanks,” Matt said, dabbing his face dry with Foggy’s tissue. “I know it seems like I’m overreacting-”

“Just a little bit,” Foggy said sarcastically.

“It’s just that Melvin’s suit’s saved my life time and time again, Foggy. I owe him.”

“Do you even have that much money?”

Matt threw the tissue across the room where it landed in the trash, and said firmly, “I’ll deal with it.” He snapped open his cane. “I’ll meet you back at the office, Foggy. There are some things I need to take care of.” And with that, he stalked out of the bathroom, leaving a confused Foggy in his wake.

 

* * *

 

“Mr M-Murdock,” Melvin stuttered in greeting as he was finally released from the holding cell.

“Melvin,” Matt returned with a nod.

“Is Betsy safe?” Melvin whispered.

Matt nodded. “I’ll take you to her now.” He gestured to the hunched Melvin to follow, and they walked out to the cab rank.

“Are you rich?” Melvin said, referring to the bond Matt had just paid.

Matt huffed a laugh. “Not particularly. So please don’t break the conditions of your bond. We can go over them again when you’re back home.”

“Okay, Mister – uh, Matt.”

They sat in silence the entire ride back to Melvin’s workshop. Melvin’s face was pressed hard against the window, his breath forming a ring of white on the glass. He drew a face into the fog: two dots, a straight mouth, and then at the last moment, a pair of horns.

Betsy was waiting for them at Melvin’s workshop. There were no hugs, no fanfare, just a warm hello and thanks.

“Mr Murdock, thank you for helping,” she said after the introductions were out of the way.

“Unfortunately, the case has only just begun,” Matt replied. “And please, call me Matt.”

“Matt,” Betsy repeated. “Uh, so what now?”

“We develop a case,” Matt replied. “Melvin’s drugging was not an isolated incident. I’ll do some research into similar cases. There are some leads I need to follow up,” Matt said, nodding at Melvin meaningfully.

“Oh,” Melvin said, cottoning on.

 Betsy looked between the two men and cleared her throat, “I’ll put some tea on upstairs,” she said. “Come up when you’re ready.”

As she left the workshop, Melvin walked over to Daisy’s prototype suit that was hanging on a frame in the corner. “For your f-friend,” Melvin said.

Matt ran his fingers over the coat before smiling and tucking it into his shoulder bag. “I have to go, Melvin, but we’ll keep in touch. I’ll contact you in a couple of days to arrange a more in-depth interview, but in the meantime, keep safe and don’t get into trouble.” Matt rifled around in his pocket for a business card. “Any problems, give me a call and I’ll be there. Day or night,” he said firmly.

Melvin looked at the business Matt was offering and then back at Matt. He took the card without comment and turned it over in his hand as if it wasn’t really real.

Matt cleared his throat in an attempt to break the awkward silence. “Yes, well, bye,” he said, edging away from the still silent Melvin.

 

That night, Matt donned his armoured hoodie and jeans before fitting Daisy’s new suit. It was black and soft, with a couple of wired buttons on the side that Matt really needed to ask Melvin about. As far as Matt could tell, they didn’t do anything.

“Are you okay to go out tonight?” Foggy said, looking up from his laptop.

“I have some things I need to follow up,” Matt said, not answering the question. “I won’t be long.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“No, this- I – I need to do this alone.”

Foggy shrugged. “Okay, but remember to turn your location app on.”

Matt gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Fog.” He threaded Daisy into his hoodie pocket and ran up the roof access stairs.

Foggy immediately pulled out his phone and texted Danny Rand, “the bird has left the nest.” He smiled to himself. If Matt wasn’t going to tell Danny that he knew Danny was following him and Danny wasn’t going to tell Matt he was following him, then Foggy didn’t feel at all guilty about joining in their game of secrets.

“Onto it,” came the texted reply from Danny.

Foggy flicked not the location sharing app. Matt was zipping across Hell’s Kitchen towards the alleyway where he’d seized the other night. Foggy saw him pause for a few moments before making his way around the block. Curious, Foggy zoomed in on the map. The building was a particularly notorious old tenement - well known for its population of criminals and junkies. Foggy could feel his heart quicken at the thought, and put his phone aside, picking up a book instead. When it came to Matt’s Daredevil activities, Foggy had concluded that it was sometimes best to only know the minimum.


	5. Finding Pellegrini

 

Melvin didn’t look up as Matt entered the workshop. Melvin was soldering a small circuit board. After a few minutes, he pulled the soldering iron away from the board and stood there, completely still. Matt waited a moment, but when Melvin didn’t speak, Matt pushed back his hood and said softly, “Melvin, is everything okay?”

Melvin sniffed. “I don’t want to go back there,” he whined.

“Where?”

“Prison,” he said, sniffing again.

Matt shifted on the spot. “I know you don’t, Melvin. I’m going to do everything I can to help. But first, I need your help.”

“You said not till next week – you said-”

“Tonight, I'm asking not as your lawyer, but as Daredevil,” Matt said, taking a tentative step forward. "Or _Mr_ Daredevil, if you'd rather," Matt added, attempting to lighten the situation.

Melvin flicked the electrical switch and put down the soldering iron. “What- what do you want?”

“I want to know if you know anyone – anyone at all who might know about the drugging?”

Melvin picked up the iron again, but didn’t turn it on. He turned it over in his hand, picking at a small dent in the plastic handle.

Matt tried again. “I- I need to figure out who’s responsible. Not just for you, but all the others who have been drugged.” Matt paused, trying to figure out the best way to convince Melvin. “If I find them, it’ll help your case.”

“They’ll come after Betsy,” Melvin said, returning the iron to its stand.

Matt sighed. “Not if I find them first.”

Melvin bit his bottom lip, and Matt tried a different tack. “Thank you for Daisy’s coat,” he said, pulling the now squirming Daisy from his pocket. Melvin seemed to instantly calm at the sight of her.

“Does she like it?”

“Very much. It’s very soft. Thank you, Melvin.”

Daisy ran to Melvin and jumped up at his knees. He scooped her up and she licked him affectionately on the hand. “She likes you,” Matt said with a smile.

Melvin stroked her for a minute before saying, “there’s a man, um, Angelo Pellegrini. He – he was there – he was there before. But-but he’s not a nice man.”

“Do you know him?”

“He- he worked for F-Fisk.”

“Do you know who he works for now?”

Melvin bit his lip again, and silently stroked Daisy beneath the chin. She gave him another lick, and Melvin said, “I- I don’t know. He said he’d – he said he’d hurt Betsy if I told anyone.”

Matt pursed his lips. If Foggy was right – and Matt strongly suspected he was – the purpose of threatening Betsy was coercion, whereas the drugging was designed to lock Melvin away for a long time. “Do you know why he drugged you?”

“He didn’t drug me. He – he warned me.” Melvin sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve, his head hung low. “He warned me it might happen, but I wasn’t to tell anyone.”

“Thank you, Melvin,” Matt said in his most sanguine tone. “It’s very brave of you to tell me.”

Melvin looked up. “What are you going to do?”

“I need to find Pellegrini-”

“But he said-”

“He might hold answers, Melvin. I won’t tell him it was you who told me. I promise.”

“But he said – Betsy, he said he’d-”

“She’s safe. I haven’t broken my promise yet, have I?”

Melvin hung his head. “No,” he said in a small voice.

Daisy looked up at Melvin with adoring eyes, and the man’s pulse slowed once again. How she had that effect on everyone, Matt still didn’t know. Whatever the case, her calming influence had proved priceless many times over – from Melvin to the small terrified girl who was kidnapped a few months back.

Matt cleared his throat. “Where can I find him, Melvin?”

Melvin shook his head. “I – I don’t know. I was buying iced tea.”

“Where abouts?”

“On the corner just down there,” Melvin said, pointing to his left. “Uh, north of here,” he corrected.

Matt nodded. He was about to thank Melvin and follow up this important lead when he remembered the buttons on Daisy’s coat. “Melvin, what are the buttons on Daisy’s coat?”

“Oh – uh, this one can be programmed to contact someone. You can teach her to lean against something three times within five seconds, or – or I could make it four, five times if three’s too few. It’s good if you have a – you have someone who can – if you have a fit they can-”

Matt furrowed his brow. “Like an alarm?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“And what’s the other one?”

Melvin shrugged. “If you want it to do something, I can program it. I put it in there just in case you needed something.”

Matt racked his brains to think of something he might need. “Uh, like what?”

Melvin shrugged. “Like something on your hood. Or a GPS tracker… whatever you think of.”

“How long would that take?”

“GPS?”

“No, programming to contact someone.”

“Give me a phone number and I can do it straight away.”

“Is it safe? I mean, secure – if – if – if I do this, will…” Matt petered off. He didn’t want to put Foggy in danger.

“I can encrypt the signal, but she could set it off accidentally.”

“No, I don’t want that – thank you, but I can’t risk it,” Matt said. “The GPS-”

“I can do that now. I'll do the coat first then link your phone to the chip if you'd like.” He placed Daisy on the bench and unzipped her coat. She gave a shake so that her fur puffed out once again. Melvin gave her another pat then got to work on the coat while Matt waited in silence. Melvin finished just as Daisy yawned and lay down on the bench. “She’s tired,” Melvin said.

Matt didn’t comment. There was a fair amount of guilt that accompanied everything Matt did, and Daisy’s company was no exception. She seemed to enjoy the adventures, but he was highly aware that it put her in danger. Even on quiet nights like this, she evidently still got tired. He gave her a small rub behind the ears and she rolled onto her back, leaning into his hand.

“Hmm… try this,” Melvin mumbled. He fitted Daisy’s coat, hummed to himself, and then took it off again. He adjusted some of the plush neck and replaced the coat. “What do you think?”

Matt ran his hand over Daisy’s back and around her neck and chest. “I think it’s a remarkable creation,” Matt said. “Thank you, Melvin.”

“Oh, I have something else for you, Mr Daredevil.” Melvin pulled out what seemed like a backpack from beneath the bench. He shook it open then patted the padded interior.

Daisy cocked her head at the very same time as Matt. “What is it, Melvin?”

“So you don’t have to carry her in your pocket.”

Matt finally closed the distance between the two of them, stepping forward to feel Melvin’s latest creation. “May I?” Matt said, gesturing to the backpack. Melvin stepped back as a way of invitation, and Matt placed Daisy inside before shrugging on the backpack.

“The armature is strong,” Melvin said. “It should take your weight if you fall from standing. The fabric is necessarily light, but it should protect from a knife. It’s good for Daisy, but it also adds an extra layer of protection for you. Uh, and it’s flexible… I don’t think it’ll get in the way.”

Matt rolled his shoulders and bent over, testing his range of movement. The pack seemed to move seamlessly with him.

“She can see out, but you can’t see her from the outside,” Melvin noted, wriggling his fingers at Daisy through the one-way mesh.

Matt shook his head. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me, Melvin. I can’t-”

“We’re friends,” Melvin said. “Betsy said- she said – you – you said-”

“Yes, we’re friends,” Matt smiled, offering his hand. They shook and Matt said, “I need to go, Melvin. Stay safe.” He gave a small bow, and quickly left the workshop.

 

* * *

 

“I didn’t expect you to be out that long,” Foggy said as Matt came down the stairs.

“You didn’t need to stay up,” Matt said.

“Like hell I didn’t. I might be home, but I want to be there for you if you need me,” Foggy snapped. “That’s the deal.”

Matt opened his mouth to argue the point, but thought better of it. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“That’s cool,” Foggy said, surprised at the sudden apology. “We just need to communicate.” He quickly checked his phone. “Uh, did you hear Danny out there?”

Matt chuckled. “Yeah. I retraced my steps from the other night, hoping that it'd trigger something. I could hear him crashing his way up the tenement fire escape after me."

"Oh come on, he's more graceful than _crashing_."

Matt smiled. "Yeah I know. He's not bad... he has a style of his own. Anyway, when I gave up on trying to remember what the seizure so rudely swept away, I visited Melvin. While we were chatting, I heard Danny dash into a nearby shop to grab a burger. He ate it on Melvin’s roof,” Matt laughed.

“That man is always hungry,” Foggy said, shaking his head. “Tell me about Melvin. Is that where you got that backpack thing?”

Matt touched one of the shoulder straps. “Oh this? Yeah, Melvin made it.” Matt gently levered it off his back and Daisy jumped out, giving a full body shake as if to protest the lack of action.

“It’s pretty futuristic looking,” Foggy said, stepping forward to get a better look. He looked back at Matt, who was struggling out of his hoodie, his face sweaty from running across Hell’s Kitchen. “How is he?”

“He’s okay. Scared. But he gave me some important intel.”

“About the drug?”

“Mmm...” Matt discarded his sweaty t-shirt and kicked off his boots. Stretching his arms, he wandered into the kitchen, flicked on the kettle with great flourish, and sorted through his collection of tea. He called over his shoulder, “apparently someone warned him about the plan to drug him – a guy called Angelo Pellegrini.”

Foggy stopped and put down the backpack. “What, so someone knew? Why didn’t Melvin tell us this before?”

Matt found the tea he was looking for with a triumphant, “uh huh!”

More forcefully, Foggy repeated, “Matt, why didn’t-”

“He was scared, Foggy. Pellegrini threatened Betsy. He said that if Melvin told anyone, he’d go after Betsy.”

“That’s weird. Why would he – huh… how did he know about Betsy?”

“He worked for Fisk.”

“Pellegrini did?”

“Yeah, along with half of New York’s underworld.”

Foggy hummed and leaned back into the couch, thinking. “Do you know where to find this Pellegrini guy?”

“Not yet.”

Foggy studied Matt carefully. “If I weren’t here waiting, would you be hunting for this guy right now?”

Matt busied himself with the tea strainer, thinking. “Probably not. I get tired out more easily nowadays, even when I haven't had a seizure in days,” he eventually said. “ _Really_ tired… plus it’s not fair on Daisy.” He considered his words. “Uh, and I thought maybe as my wingman…” he paused and gave Foggy a tentative smile, “maybe you’d help – uh, with the thinking stuff. You’re good at finding links.”

“Of course,” Foggy said, sitting up straight. “Will I earn a better name than Darepickeruperer though?”

Matt grinned. “I’m sure we can work something out.” He carried the steaming cup of tea to the couch and was about to sit down next to Foggy when he suddenly said, "ooh –ooh! I have to show you our new trick."

Foggy raised his eyebrows. "Oh yes?" The tricks were getting more and more elaborate.

Matt whistled for Daisy and crouched with his back to her. She took a running leap and jumped onto his back just as he jumped up and somersaulted forwards, catapulting Daisy into the air. As he landed on his feet, he reached up and caught the tiny dog. He gave her an affectionate squeeze and she wiggled out of his grasp, bounding onto the carpet with excitement. She did a couple of quick spins before jumping onto the couch for a bonus pat from Foggy.

Matt grinned at Foggy, his smile fading as the silence lengthened. Eventually he cleared his throat. “What - what do you think, Foggy?"

“Uh, I think that you could make a lot of money out of your performances if you wanted to,” Foggy said. “I also think that you’re looking mighty buff again. All those sit ups have paid off.” Matt looked pleased and puffed out his chest. In a more serious tone, Foggy added, “but I also think that you're putting Daisy's well-being at risk.”

Matt pouted and threw himself at the couch. “She likes it,” he said, ruffling her fur. He rubbed his back, which now had two red marks on it. “I probably shouldn’t have done it without a t-shirt though”. He bent down to Daisy and cooed, “your claws are sharp, aren’t they? Yes, they are.” Pulling Daisy onto his lap, Matt angled himself at Foggy, and waited for the reception he was hoping for.

It worked. Foggy couldn’t bare Matt’s needy expression any longer. He sighed. “Okay, it was pretty cool, Matt. I can't help thinking just how much fun we'd have had in college if you'd been honest about your crazy gymnastic abilities back then.”

“I guess I'll just have to make up for it now,” Matt replied, the grin back on his face. He knew he was showing off, but he didn’t care.

“Just don't land on your head,” Foggy said, still wary about encouraging Matt's tendency to try and outdo himself. “Or on Daisy… or … just don’t hurt anyone or anything, okay?”

“I won't,” Matt said dismissively. He reached for his still steaming cup of tea and hugged it to his chest. “You worry too much, Fog. What's the worst that-”

“No-”

“Can-”

“NO! Don’t say it, Matt, I mean it.”

“Happen,” Matt finished triumphantly.

Foggy put his head in his hands. "We're doomed," he moaned.

 

* * *

 

“You know who’d be good at finding Pellegrini?” Foggy said on the walk to work the next morning.

Matt tilted his head as if to say, ‘go on’.

“Karen,” Foggy said.

“I don’t want to put her in danger,” Matt replied. It was a habitual response rather than one of considered thought.

“What? She’s in danger if she helps, but I’m not?” Foggy teased.

Matt sighed. “Point taken. I shouldn’t have asked you-”

“Matt that’s not what I meant. I’m happy to help, and Karen loves this kind of thing.” He gave Matt a playful punch. “Don’t do your martyr thing, Saint Matthew.”

“You’ve been talking to Claire,” Matt grumbled.

 

As predicted, Karen leapt on the opportunity as soon as Matt asked. She started researching before Matt had even finished the briefing, and within an hour Karen had Pellegrini’s residential address, previous workplace, criminal history, and list of known associates.

Foggy whispered, “told you,” at Matt as soon as Karen had finished reporting back to her bosses.

“Told him what?” Karen said sharply.

“That you’re an expert researcher,” Foggy said. “And that you’d find this information out quicker than both of us combined.”

Karen smiled and ducked her head.

Foggy continued, “although I might have just jeopardised my position as Daredevil’s primary wingman.”

“Foggy, shhhh…” Matt hissed.

“What?”

There was a sharp knock at the door and both Foggy and Karen froze. After a few seconds, Matt cleared his throat and said, “uh, Karen?”

“Oh, yes, sorry.” She leapt up and opened the door. “Nelson and Murdock, how can I help you?”

Foggy spotted the subtle tell of Matt readying for a fight. His jaw was set and one of his hands was bunched in a fist. Foggy opened his mouth to speak, but Matt gave a small shake of his head and put his hand out to say, “just wait.”

Matt could hear the man’s heart beating overtime. He was nervous, skittish, but why, Matt dearly wanted to know. Matt cleared his throat, and waved the man in. “Come in, Mr…?”

The man tentatively stepped inside, peering into the kitchenette and empty meeting room as if expecting something to jump out. “I need to talk to Murdock,” the man said, his voice gruff from years of chain smoking.

Matt replied, “and you are?”

“Angelo Pellegrini. I need to talk to you about Melvin Potter.”

 

While Foggy and Karen stared in shock, Matt kept an expressionless face and held his hand out. “Mr Pellegrini, I’m Matt Murdock. How can I help you?”

“Uh, can I talk to you in private?”

Matt hesitated, worried that Foggy would find offense if he said yes. “Mr Potter is represented by both Mr Nelson and myself. If you have information that would help Mr Potter’s case, it’s best to talk to both of us at once.”

Pellegrini looked between Matt and Foggy. He rubbed his hands and then looked back at the door.

“Mr Pellegrini, can I get you a cup of co-” Karen started before deciding that coffee was probably the last thing the man needed. “Can I get you a cup of tea… or a glass of water…”

“No, I should probably go-”

“No,” Foggy said loudly, making the man jump back.

“Mr Pellegrini,” Matt said in a more docile tone. “If you’re nervous, you don’t have to be.”

After a couple more false starts, they managed to convince Pellegrini to talk to Matt and Foggy in the conference room. Matt pulled the voice recorder towards him, but Pellegrini growled, “no. No recordings.”

Matt let go of the recorder. “Fine,” he said sharply. His patience was starting to wear thin. “What do you want, Mr Pellegrini?”

“Last week, I learned about a group that was going around drugging people, see.” Pellegrini paused and licked his lips.

“Go on,” Foggy urged.

“I’m no saint, but this is – uh, it didn’t sit right. People turn into right psychopaths. And some of them were psychopaths to begin with so you can probably imagine how that’d go. Anyways, I heard that Potter was on the list and so I warned him. He attacked me – thought I was threatening him.”

Melvin had told Matt that Pellegrini had threatened Betsy. Matt opened his mouth to say as much, but then thought better of it. Pellegrini could be a valuable witness, but not if Matt scared him away. He took a deep breath and said, “how do you know Mr Potter?”

Pellegrini shifted in his seat. “Friend of a friend,” he said.

“That’s a lie,” Matt said immediately. Foggy turned his choked gasp into a cough, taking a sip of water while Matt and Pellegrini sat in silence.

Eventually Matt said in his most dangerous tone. “Tell us the truth, Mr Pellegrini.”

“Okay,” Pellegrini said, his mouth dry and cracking with nerves. “We were in the same line of business. I- I’m not going to lie – we were working for Fisk. Everyone knew Potter as the guy who made the suits. They called him an idiot, but I kinda liked the guy. Anyone who can make a suit like that can’t be an idiot.” He glanced at the front door and said, “regretting informing him now though. I swear they know. I – I’m probably next. They’ll probably not even bother with the drugs. They’ll go straight for the bullet.”

Foggy nodded and looked at Matt for reassurance, but Matt wasn’t giving anything away. Straight faced, Matt said, “and you’re here because?”

“I- I thought you could help. Get me into witness protection or something.”

“You’re saying you want to testify on Mr Potter’s behalf?”

Pellegrini shifted in his seat. “No court. I-I guess I could talk to the police though.”

Matt sat back in his chair with a huff. “That’s not how witness protection works, Mr Pellegrini.”

Foggy interrupted, “we can see what we can do though – if you’re willing to testify, that is. We need names, dates, details.”

Pellegrini opened and closed his mouth a few times before blurting out, “I-I think this was a mistake.” He jerked the chair back and ran out the door, yelling, “don’t contact me,” as he fled through the door.

“What was that about?” Karen asked as Foggy and Matt burst out of the conference room.

“He just freaked and ran out,” Foggy said. Matt had his head down, listening to Pellegrini’s hurried footsteps down the stairs. He made a beeline for the door, but just as he was reaching for his cane, Daisy sped out and jumped up at his knee.

“I’m not taking you,” Matt barked. “Stay.”

Daisy whined and scratched at Matt’s calf.

“Uh, Matt, I think you should lie down. She’s telling you you’re about to have a seizure.”

Matt gave a rage-filled growl. “No… not now,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t have time…” He shook Daisy away from his ankle with such force that she gave a shrill bark. He slipped out the door, locking Daisy on the other side.

“Matt, no,” Foggy yelled, pulling the door open. He and Daisy ran down the stairs after Matt and onto the street. Daisy charged ahead, running at Matt, who had his head down, concentrating on Pellegrini’s path.

“Matt, stop,” Foggy yelled, weaving through the lunch time crowd. “ _Matt!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: indulgent h/c (of course)


	6. Don't want

Matt didn't get very far.

Daisy had proven herself to be a reliable predictor of Matt's seizures and sure enough, Foggy was barely half a block from the office when there was a ripple of gasps from up ahead. He slipped through the ring of curious onlookers to find Matt face-down on the concrete. Pellegrini was nowhere in sight.

Someone was already calling 911, so Foggy concentrated solely on his convulsing friend. Daisy was pulling frantically at Matt’s shirt, trying and failing to roll him over. Foggy gently pushed the dog away and rolled Matt onto his side, revealing a massive gash across Matt’s temple. His nose and cheek were grazed and blood was dripping onto the sidewalk.

Foggy tossed aside Matt’s broken glasses and tried to stem the bleeding with his shirt sleeve, but it wasn’t enough. Panicking, he appealed to the growing crowd, “does anyone have a towel I could use?” A young woman offered up her gym towel and Foggy tucked it under Matt’s head, holding the end against Matt’s head wound, while Matt continued to seize.

Daisy whined and scratched at Foggy’s leg. He put a hand on her head. “Daze, not now. Sit. Just sit.” The dog let out a small whine of discontent, ducked under Matt’s flailing arm, and sat next to his stomach.

The woman who’d called 911 held her phone to her chest and said to Foggy, “do you know this guy?”

“Yeah,” Foggy said. He put out his hand. “Give me the phone. I’ll talk to them.”

He tucked the phone between his shoulder and cheek, still trying to keep the towel pressed against Matt’s wound. “Hi, this is Franklin Nelson… Matt Murdock… no, but I have power of attorney,” Foggy said, circling his hand in a redundant attempt to speed them up. “Yeah, epilepsy uncontrolled by medication… Uh, he’s hit his head on the sidewalk. There’s a lot of blood, but I’m not sure how serious the wound is. Yeah… yeah… he usually refuses transport, but there’s- there’s so much blood.” Foggy swallowed, trying to calm his racing heart. “I think… yeah, send an ambulance.”

Foggy handed the phone back to the woman and then remembered Karen. “Shit, can I use your phone again,” he said. “Can you call this number for me…” Within a minute, Karen was crouched next to Matt, stroking the distraught Daisy. Within another minute, the ambulance arrived, mounting the sidewalk and clearing a much-needed space around Matt.

As the paramedics worked to get a cannula into Matt’s shaking hand, Foggy stepped back and watched with one hand over his mouth. The seizure had been going for four minutes already – a signal that the seizure was more serious than usual.

The woman who had donated the towel came up next to Foggy and said, “uh, you can keep the towel.”

“I can give you money for a new one,” Foggy replied, giving her a brief glance before turning his full attention back to Matt

“No, please. It’s old – just… no. I hope he’s okay.”

“Okay, thanks,” Foggy said. The towel was the least of his concerns. The paramedics were giving Matt oxygen, but even so, his lips were blue and the portable monitor started beeping out a higher pitch. Karen gave a small sob and held Daisy closer to her chest. “He’s such an idiot,” Foggy said under his breath. “Why did he have to chase that guy?”

“Foggy, don’t,” Karen said, reaching for his hand. “What’s done is done.”

“I can’t stand it. He can’t – he just can’t let things be. One of these days…” Foggy’s breath caught and he shook his head.

Karen squeezed Foggy’s hand. “It’s Matt we’re talking about. He’ll be okay.”

Matt’s seizure reached the five-minute mark, which sent the paramedics into an extra flurry of activity. He was dosed with medication and they talked through the next step of getting a seizing Matt onto a stretcher. The paramedics wrapped a collar around Matt’s neck just as the convulsions stopped. “Why do you have that?” Foggy asked. The only other time paramedics had used a cervical collar was after the initial injury.

“Precaution,” one of them answered, and in the same breath said, “you said you were his partner. Do you want to accompany us?”

Foggy yelped, “yes”, then looked at Karen. “Will you be okay?”

“Yeah, someone has to look after Daisy. Oh - I’ll cancel your meeting with Johnson & Smart.”

“Shit, that was this afternoon,” Foggy said. Matt would be furious he missed the meeting with opposing council on their class action case.

Karen rubbed Foggy’s arm. “It’ll be okay. I’ll just reschedule. Give me a call when you find out more.” Foggy nodded and jumped into the back of the ambulance.

By the time they arrived at the hospital, Matt's lips were no longer blue, although his face was as white as a sheet (at least the area not covered in blood, bandage or oxygen mask).

Once in the ER, Foggy looked for Claire. He asked a nurse for her whereabouts, but they frowned and said, “I’m just a locum,” before hurrying off.

A crowd of nurses and doctors were surrounding Matt, trying to stabilise him and yelling out statistics and medical terms that Foggy still couldn’t quite understand. Some of the medications he recognised thanks to Matt’s other recent medical emergencies, but there were so many and they seemed to change all the time. Foggy hung back, watching as they tried to rouse Matt. He stayed stubbornly unconscious. Before Foggy could ask someone what was going on, Matt was whisked off to radiology. Foggy sighed and slumped in a chair in the corner, unnoticed by the stream of medical personnel rushing to and fro to attend to the constant flow of patients.

Eventually one of the nurses stopped in front of Foggy. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Oh, my partner is-” Foggy waved his hand in the direction of radiology. “He’s being scanned. I’m just waiting.” Foggy tended to leave the ‘business’ out of ‘business partner’ in these situations because it was easier than explaining that he was a close friend with medical power of attorney. The staff made assumptions, but those assumptions tended to be advantageous. Not this time though…

“You need to wait in the waiting room if he’s not here,” the nurse replied.

“Uh, is Claire here?”

“Claire who?”

“Temple.”

“No, not today.” She repeated more firmly, “you’ll have to wait in the waiting room.”

“But-”

“No buts," she said, beckoning him to follow. "Come on-”

“Oh, here he is,” Foggy said, pointing to Matt, who was being wheeled back into the cubicle.

The nurse looked over her glasses. Foggy took a step back and slowly edged towards his friend. When he turned around a minute later she was gone.

Foggy watched as one of the doctors listened to Matt's chest. He cleared his throat. “Uh, is there something wrong with his lungs again?”

The doctor unhooked the stethoscope from his ears. “It's routine. Considering his history of respiratory complications, we have to check.” He glanced at one of the monitors. “We’ll keep him on supplemental oxygen for a bit longer.”

Foggy bit his lip and nodded. "Uh, so what’s the verdict - the scans – or whatever?”

“We’re just waiting on the results of the x-ray. He’s still unconscious - possibly the result of a trauma to the head when he fell.”

“But he’s going to be okay, right?”

“We’ll see what the x-ray says. Depending on the results, we might have to get a head CT.”

Foggy rubbed his hands together. “When do you get the results?”

“Soon. In the meantime, we’re going to clean up his head wound,” he said, pulling the temporary bandage off Matt’s temple and inspecting the hastily applied tape underneath.

“Is it bad?”

“He’ll require stitches. We’re more worried about what might have happened to his brain, particularly as the epilepsy was from a traumatic brain injury in the first place.”

“Is Dr Millet on call today? She’s his neurologist.”

“Not today. We have Dr Jensen coming down now.”

“Oh, okay.” Foggy stepped forward and gently touched Matt’s hand, uncrumpling his fingers and massaging Matt’s palm.

By the time Dr Jensen arrived, they’d removed the collar from around Matt’s neck and dressed his head wound. Matt had a thick bandage around the top of his head that made his head wound look even more dramatic than it was. Matt still hadn’t woken up, but the x-ray didn’t show any visible damage so they transferred Matt to the neurology ward for observation.

It was only when he was finally alone with Matt on the ward that Foggy realised just how jittery he was. He shook out his hands, trying to relieve some of the tension. He jumped as his phone vibrated. Karen.

Foggy’s hands shook ever so slightly as he dialled Karen’s number. “Hi Karen, I’m so sorry. I should have called," Foggy said into the phone. "It’s been crazy," he breathed. "Yeah, he’s still here… no. No, he’s been admitted… hasn’t woken up… I know.” Foggy paced over to the window of Matt's room. It faced a post-war building with its rows and rows of square windows. A pigeon slowly pecked its way along one of the concrete edges. “Thanks, Karen, just lock up… yeah if you could… her food’s in the fridge… Yep, Matt’s still making poached chicken for the dog. It’s crazy… thanks…. See you soon, bye.”

Foggy returned to Matt’s side before remembering Claire. She’d want to know. He felt uncomfortable calling so he tapped out a text message: “Hi Claire, sorry for a text on your day off. Thought you might want to know that Matt’s in hospital again. Foggy.” Foggy pressed send then hesitated, wondering if the message should have been friendlier. He stashed his phone before he could dwell on it too much.

His phone almost immediately rang. Claire. Of course she wanted to know more. As Foggy was recounting the events of the afternoon, Matt twitched and gave a small groan. “Hang on, Claire. I think he’s waking up…. Uh, I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up and grabbed Matt’s hand. Matt immediately squeezed Foggy’s hand, and Foggy pressed the button for help. It had to be a good sign.

By the time the nurse arrived, Matt appeared to be unconscious again. “Maybe you just imagined it,” the nurse said.

Foggy shook his head. “I didn’t. He made a sound.”

“That can happen.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Foggy said, a little less certain now. He remembered that Matt often let out an unconscious groan when seizing. Maybe the hand squeezing thing was a similar reflex.

The nurse left, and Foggy was once again left alone with an unmoving Matt. He straightened the padded inserts fitted to Matt’s bed to prevent seizure-related injuries. He adjusted the crooked oxygen mask so that it sat neatly over Matt’s nose and mouth with the minimum of pressure on his skin. Matt had once confessed that the plastic hurt when it rubbed against his skin. Foggy couldn't remove the mask, but at least he could minimise the rubbing. Matt hadn’t shaved this morning, complaining that his skin was already itchy enough. He tended to do that from time to time, and now that Foggy knew about his increased sensitivity to touch, it made more sense. Whether or not the stubble made the rubbing from the mask better or worse, Foggy didn’t know. He’d ask when Matt woke up… _if_ Matt woke up. Foggy didn’t want to dwell on the potential of the latter, and instead busied himself untangling the IV tube from the folds of the blanket.

Deciding that Matt was probably cold, Foggy pulled up the blankets to Matt’s neck, tucking them under his torso and shoulders. He almost immediately changed his mind when he realised he couldn’t hold Matt’s hand anymore, threading Matt’s right arm outside the blanket, and slipping his fingers through his hand.

Foggy sat there, staring at Matt’s head for any sign of movement until his need to go to the bathroom could no longer be ignored. He skipped off to Matt’s ensuite and was just washing his hands when he heard a crash, followed by a thump, followed by a low moan.

Foggy threw back the bathroom door to find Matt flat on the floor, clumsily fighting the IV tube that was now wrapped around his torso. A padded insert was hanging half of the bed, along with the abandoned oxygen mask.

“Matt, Matt, Matt,” Foggy yelled. “Stop.” He ran to Matt and grabbed his free arm. Matt instinctively hit out, but almost immediately withdrew when he realised it was Foggy.

“Matt, calm down. You’re in hospital. You had a seizure and hit your head.”

Matt squirmed on the floor, trying to get up. He pulled at the tubing again, and Foggy said, “here, let me help. Sit up.”

Matt stilled and Foggy helped him sit up, propping his tired friend against his shoulder. They sat there for half a minute while Matt calmed down before Foggy attempted to untangle the IV line. Just as he’d untangled Matt, a nurse came in, gasping when she saw Matt’s now bleeding IV site.

“Thank fuck,” Foggy said under his breath when he saw it was Elsa – one of the nurses who had looked after Matt a few times before. She was exceptionally kind and patient, and it was no secret that she was Matt’s favourite nurse.

“What happened?” Elsa said, crouching down to check Matt’s pulse.

“Not sure,” Foggy replied. “I went to the bathroom and there was a crash and this happened.”

“Fell,” Matt slurred.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Foggy muttered.

“Matt, it’s Elsa,” the nurse said, pulling aside Matt's mop of hair to check his head wounds. “Did you hit your head again? Any injuries?”

Matt gave a small groan and leaned more heavily against Foggy. “Wan’ go’me.”

“Not until you’re given the all clear, buddy,” Foggy said, shifting sideways to look at Matt’s face. Matt had once again closed his eyes and his head was slowly drooping forwards. Foggy gently cupped his chin and said, “Matty, you need to stay awake.”

Remembering Matt’s noise sensitivities, Elsa said in a voice just above a whisper, “Matt, do you think you can stand with assistance? We need to get you back in bed.”

When there was no response, Elsa looked at Foggy and said, “do you think you could help?”

“Oh. Y-yeah, sure,” Foggy stuttered.

“On the count of three… one, two, three…”

Matt struggled as they hoisted him up and helped him back to bed, but at least he held some of his weight. Elsa tried to replace the oxygen mask, but Matt turned his head away. “Don’t want,” he mumbled. Elsa and Foggy exchanged a look. If Matt’s standard phrase outside the hospital was “I’m fine,” his favourite phrase within the hospital (particularly when disoriented) was “don’t want.” It wasn’t particularly helpful.

“Hey, I know you don’t,” Elsa said gently. “Listen, if you let me put this on your finger, we can see if you still need it, okay?” She slipped the pulse oximeter onto his finger. “Good, Matt. You’re doing really well,” she said when he didn’t rip it off. “Matt, I’m going to page your doctor and get another cannula for IV access,” she said, nodding to Foggy at the same time. “Will you be okay for a minute?”

Foggy tried to say yes, but in the drama he seemed to have lost his voice. He cleared his throat, “y-yes.”

Once Elsa was out the door, Foggy said, “what in earth was that about, Matt?”

“Don’t want,” Matt grumbled.

“Yeah, well you brought it on yourself this time,” Foggy said, his frustration spilling over. “If you’d laid down on the couch instead of chasing that criminal down the street, you wouldn’t be in here right now. Instead, you’ve gone and done more damage to your head. I don’t get it, Matt. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

A few tears ran down Matt’s cheeks, and then he let out a gasping sob. More tears followed until Matt was all out bawling. Foggy had only seen this incongruous behaviour from Matt twice before: once immediately after the initial brain injury, and then again when he’d had a massive seizure on top of a high fever, broken ribs and pneumonia. In both cases, he was in hospital and in a grave medical condition.

After Foggy’s initial shock, he tried to hug Matt but when all the medical equipment got in the way, he ended up just rubbing Matt’s arm instead. “I’m sorry, Matty. I didn’t mean that. You didn’t deserve this. It’s not your fault. Not really.”

Matt sniffed and let out another sob that racked his entire body.

When Elsa returned to Matt’s room, IV kit in hand, she stopped in shock at Matt’s hysteria. She turned to Foggy, “what happened?”

Foggy - who was now nearly in tears himself - shook his head. “I-I don’t know. This isn’t normal. He’s only done this when he’s been really out of it. Remember – you were there – when he had pneumonia and the seizure – remember? He just broke down.”

“What helped last time, do you remember?”

“Uh, the first time he had a seizure, so that put an end to that. The second time…” Foggy thought back to the previous time. “I think he just calmed down… he had his headphones. You helped.”

Foggy sighed and leaned into Matt. “Matty, please,” he whispered. He rubbed Matt’s shoulder and managed to pull Matt in for a hug. Matt leaned against Foggy’s chest, his tears soaking into Foggy’s still bloodied shirt.

The doctors who joined them minutes later were similarly flummoxed by Matt’s odd behaviour. Concluding that it was the result of the bump to his head, they ordered a head CT and tried to convince him to take a sedative. When Matt refused the medication, there was a brief discussion about whether he was in fact competent to make health decisions given his suspected brain injury and unusual behaviour.

It didn’t help that Claire turned up just before Matt was to be taken to radiology. Her presence triggered a whole new round of tears just as it looked like he was finally calming down. Claire looked at Matt with an expression of absolute bafflement, and then looked at Foggy with raised eyebrows. “What happened?” she whispered to Foggy.

“Bump to the head,” Foggy said, but the shrug of his shoulders said far more.

Foggy gave a cry as Matt’s arm hit his stomach, but it turned into a “shit,” as he recognised it as the start of another seizure. “Claire,” Foggy said hopelessly.

Claire jumped into action, not waiting for the nursing staff to arrive. “I’ll probably get in trouble for this,” Claire said as she unfurled the suction tube from the wall.

The first nurse on scene didn’t even blink when she saw Claire. Instead, she doubled back and called for a doctor. Within a minute, they’d dosed Matt with a fast-acting benzodiazepine and he’d stopped seizing.

Matt was now lying in a damp and crumpled heap, wheezing into an oxygen mask, his usual post-seizure breathing problems seemingly worse. Foggy ventured over and wiped the remnants of tears from the corners of Matt’s eyes, his chest tight with guilt and regret.

“We’ll wait until he’s conscious and then we’ll get him down to radiology for a head CT stat,” the doctor said. “We can’t have him seizing again.”

 

Once Matt had been wheeled downstairs, Foggy looked at Claire and said awkwardly, “so… uh, drama huh.”

“Always,” Claire replied.

“How have you been?” Foggy asked, unable to cope with the awkward silence.

“Well, thanks.” Claire looked at the door. “Uh, I’m just going to check on him.”

“Sure, sure…” Foggy said, relieved he didn’t have to make small talk any more.

He threw himself onto the corner armchair and checked his phone. There was a message from Karen about Daisy having being fed, accompanied by a photo of Daisy curled up on Matt’s pillow looking very mournful. Foggy typed out, “Matt’s going to be here for a bit longer. They think he has a concussion. Taking another brain scan now.”

“Shit. Is he going to be okay?” came the reply.

Foggy bit his bottom lip. “Don’t know.”

“Do you want me to bring you anything?”

“No, it’s okay,” Foggy typed back. It was getting late. “Thanks though,” he added. “TTYL.”

 

* * *

 

Matt tried to cling on as the bed lurched sideways. He clutched at the sheets as voices, muffled, indistinct, sounded annoyingly nearby. He turned his head and felt a pull, an itch on his cheek. Slowly and clumsily he swatted at the bug, bumping against plastic that then dug into his opposite cheek. A hand on his wrist. He jerked away. Movement against his face. He tried to remove the source of the itch, but again, a hand against his own grabbed him. More hands against his skin, touching, moving. The muffled voices were getting louder and louder, and Matt screwed up his face in pain. Another lurch sideways then a sudden halt. He shifted again, which resulted in more muffled shouts. He winced and covered an ear and the voices lowered in volume. Another lurch and Matt realised he was moving. He tried to get up but his limbs had another ideas.

A rude rhythmic banging woke him and he reached out expecting to encounter the pillows that had foiled his earlier escape. Nothing. He tried to roll over into the void but his body just couldn't find the momentum and in any case his head was fixed in place by soft... headphones? He let out a moan, and a voice boomed through headphones, “Matt, stay still please. Just another minute then we're done.”

“Don't want,” he mumbled, trying and failing to get up. He pulled a leg up, but his socked foot slipped on the plastic-covered padding. He struggled onto one elbow before collapsing awkwardly onto the narrow bed. Another voice, recognisable, said, “Matt, I'll be in in a moment, but you just need to lie still for a moment first.”

“'Laire,” Matt whispered. He stilled, trying to figure out where she was. He could feel something spinning fast around him… sickeningly fast. He tried to sit up, but Claire repeated, “please, Matt. Two minutes then I'll take you back to Foggy.”

Foggy. Where was Foggy? He reached out, trying to feel his surroundings now that his other senses had failed him. 

There was an audible sigh and the machine slowly stilled. Footsteps, a sigh, a hand on his. “Matt,” Claire said softly. “You're at Metro General – hospital. You’re in radiology. We need to take a CT of your head - check for damage after your second seizure.”

“Don't want,” Matt grumbled, pushing the nasal cannula away from his face. It was immediately replaced and he pushed it away again. “Don’t want,” he repeated, trying to sit up.

“Yeah, well, can we talk about it once that we've established that your brain's not damaged?”

Matt fell silent.

“That's what I thought,” Claire said, trying and failing to keep the tone of sarcasm out of her voice. She crouched so that her head was right next to his. “Two minutes then we can go upstairs,” she said softly. She squeezed his hand, and then he heard her footsteps leave the room.

Through the headphones, Claire counted down from two minutes. It gave him something to focus on. The numbers varied in fuzziness as he drifted in and out of varying levels of consciousness…

He woke again in fright as someone said, “one, two, three,” and he was dragged sideways. He hadn’t noticed that Claire had finished counting. He gave a strangled yelp, which was followed by a gentle hand on his forehead. He jerked away and Claire said, “sorry, Matt... I thought - I didn't mean to give you a shock.” Matt flexed his fingers and Claire got the hint, slipping her fingers between his. “It's all done. We'll take you upstairs now. Foggy’s waiting.”

The transfer back to the ward was a blur and the next thing Matt grasped was a jolt as the bedhead hit a wall. He groaned at the rude awakening. As they jammed the brakes on the bed, Matt gave an annoyed moan and tried to turn over. His IV cannula caught on the blanket and he reached over to pull it out. “No, Matt,” Claire said, grabbing his hand before he could do any damage. At the sound of her voice, Matt stilled.

“Thanks,” Foggy said to Claire. “Uh, did it go okay – downstairs? He didn’t destroy anything did he?” Foggy felt a bit better knowing that Claire was looking out for Matt, but at the same time, he was constantly confused about their complicated relationship. There was something about her that intimidated Foggy.

“Not this time,” Claire smiled.

She looked apologetically at Foggy. “Foggy, I have to start my shift in the ER now, but I’ll check in on him on my break. Will you be okay?”

“Yeah… yeah, thanks.

She gave Matt's hand a squeeze and waved to Foggy as she left.

Plied with sedatives, Matt slept solidly for the next couple of hours. Foggy woke to the sound of the bed creaking as Matt tried to slither out. “Matty, no.” Foggy’s voice was hoarse from sleep and the words came out more gruffly than intended.

“Foggy?” Matt’s tone was one of surprise.

“Is there something wrong?”

“Have to go bathroom. My- I can’t hear well.”

“You fell on your head,” Foggy said plainly. He squinted at the hunched figure silhouetted against the bright hallway. “Here, let me help.”

Matt went to pull away the nasal cannula, but Foggy said, “leave it. The bathroom is right next to your bed. It’ll reach.” Matt pulled a face, but left the oxygen as is. “You were having trouble breathing after the seizures,” Foggy explained.

Matt tipped his head. “Seizures, plural?”

“Yeah, they’re worried that the fall from the first one might have given you concussion. Give me your arm.” Foggy held Matt’s arm as he slid off the bed and together they shuffled to the bathroom.

Foggy waited outside the bathroom until he heard the sound of a running tap. “Matt? Can I come in?”

Foggy took Matt’s grunt as a yes, and pushed open the door. Matt was leaning against the sink, clinging onto the edge as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. “You probably shouldn’t be out of bed,” Foggy said. “You look like shit.”

Matt frowned and waved his hand: an unspoken request for Foggy’s arm.

Once Matt was back in bed, Foggy sighed and said, “I expected you to be demanding to be released by now.”

Matt pulled up the blanket. “Too tired,” he mumbled.

“It’s midnight,” Foggy said.

“Mmm…”

“Does that mean I can go home and return in the morning without you disappearing on me?”

“Mmm if you want,” Matt said, his voice thick with fatigue. “I don’t dis’pear.”

Foggy rubbed Matt’s forearm. “Okay, see you in the morning. Your phone’s on the bedside table if you need me. Claire charged it earlier-”

“Claire?”

“Yeah, she came straight to the hospital when she heard. Do you remember her accompanying you to radiology?” The subsequent silence from Matt suggested not. Foggy continued, “she’s downstairs now – night shift in the ER. She said she’d pop up during her break though.”

“S’good. Thanks, Fog,” came Matt’s mumbled goodbye as he quickly drifted off to sleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy chocolate egg day!


	7. The Great Escape

Matt woke with a start. He rolled over and felt the waffle weave of the hospital blanket rough against his arm, the scratch of the hospital gown on his chest, the slight pull of the tape around his IV cannula. Not a dream then. He reached up and felt the bandage covering his head, accidentally bumping the nasal cannula so that it sat crooked against his face, diverting the incessant hiss of the oxygen. He rubbed his nose, annoyed at the dry itch, and reluctantly pushed the tube straight. He vaguely remembered talking to Foggy at some point, but apart from that, he had no recollection of how or why he’d landed back in hospital. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t good.

He tried to map his surroundings, clicking his fingers a couple of times in a desperate attempt to orient himself. When that failed to work, he felt around for the call button that was usually pegged to the side of the bed. The railings were covered in the usual padding that they always added to Matt’s bed to protect from seizure-related injuries. He pulled them away from the edge, searching for the button. He was feeling a bit panicky now. The beeping from the bedside monitor quickened, slightly out of time with his real heartbeat. It only made him more anxious.

There were soft footsteps in the hall outside and Matt tried to call out, “hello?” but it came out as a strangled croak. “Shit,” he said, struggling upright. He was about to get out of bed when the footsteps returned along with a trolley that squealed against the floor as it rounded the corner.

“Why hello, Matt. You’re awake,” in her lyrical Irish accent. “It’s Elsa,” she quickly added. “I don’t know if you remember me-”

“Yes, yes of course,” Matt croaked.

“I’ve just got to take your vitals then I’ll let you rest,” she said in a hushed tone.

“Uh, I – hmmm…” Matt wanted to ask her dozens of questions, starting with why was he in hospital?

“Are you in pain? You can have some Tylenol if you have a headache.”

“Uh, can I –I’m a bit hungry.”

Elsa gave a small laugh. “That’s not something I usually hear from you.” Like most, she’d noticed that Matt didn’t look nearly as scrawny as he did two months ago when he was last in hospital. She looked at her watch. “Let me see, twelve hours… oh yes, it’s been a tad more than that. You can have something now.”

Matt frowned. Twelve hours from what?

“I could get the kitchen to send up some sandwiches, or a fruit salad. Do you eat yoghurt?” She said, looking at him intently for any kind of response. “There won’t be anything more substantial until breakfast I’m afraid.”

“What’s the time?”

“It’s going on three in the morning.”

Matt closed his eyes. His head ached, his chest ached, everything ached… he was hungry, but even the thought of making a decision seemed tiring.

“So what’s the verdict, Matt? Sandwiches?”

“Uh, yes… thanks,” he said, just glad the decision was made for him.

 

Claire arrived just as Matt was slowly pulling off what seemed to be a dozen layers of impenetrable plastic wrap covering four small triangles of sandwich. “Do you need help with that?” she said in greeting.

Matt attempted a smile. “Claire,” he said affectionately. He gestured at the sandwiches to say go ahead.

“Do you want the juice too?” Claire asked after she’d clawed her way through the thick wrapping.

Matt licked his cracked lips. “What kind?”

“Apple. They’re not very good at labelling things for you,” Claire said, half to herself. “The sandwiches seem to be ham, cheese and tomato, and then egg and lettuce by the way.”

“Huh,” Matt grunted. He was used to the lack of labelling. It didn’t make it any less annoying though.

“Done,” Claire said triumphantly as she scrunched the plastic into a tight ball.

Matt held his breath as he took a bite of the first piece. The crusts were hard from refrigeration so he nibbled around the edge. The egg mixture was relatively bland and inoffensive, which was fine by Matt. He could feel Claire watching him intently, so he shrugged and said, “s’okay.” An audible exhale from Claire followed.

He finished the first piece and reached for the ham. Claire started as if she were about to say something, but waited until he’d finished the second piece before saying, “so, do I dare ask how you are – and if you say fine I’ll-I’ll-”

“Sore,” Matt said, sinking back into the pillows. “I was getting good at avoiding all this for the last few months” – he gestured at the bed and then the IV stand. “I almost miss the days where injuries meant turning up at your apartment for some stitches.”

“It’s not mutual,” Claire muttered.

“I thought you enjoyed my casual drop-ins,” Matt joked. “I gave you all kinds of challenges.”

“You still do,” Claire replied. “Unwrapping those sandwiches for one.”

Matt sighed and pulled at a loose thread in the blanket. Claire experienced a sudden wave of affection for the perplexing man. She touched the back of his fingers and he gave her hand a squeeze of thanks. She leaned forward and said in a stage whisper, “when you get out, we’re going to have a talk about inappropriate times to chase criminals.”

“When I get out,” Matt repeated. “And when would that be?”

Claire shrugged. “That’s a question for your doctor. I only have a quick break – there was some sort of turf war amongst some underage gangs so we’re overrun with angry teenagers and their even angrier parents…” Claire petered off. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear that right now. Uh, I’ll drop in after my shift, okay?”

Claire went to move away, but Matt clung onto her hand. The grip wasn’t physically tight, but the meaning was there.

Claire sighed. “Matt, I have to go.”

“I know,” he eventually whispered, letting go.

“I’ll be back.”

Matt nodded then winced as the pain in his head bit back.

Claire gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze then quickly left the room.

 

* * *

 

When Foggy turned up to the hospital early the next morning, he found Matt picking at a breakfast fruit salad. He attempted to stab a grape with a fork, but it slid sideways. Matt sighed and dropped the fork on the tray. “Hi, Foggy,” he croaked.

Foggy said, “you’re looking better,” as he perched on the side of Matt’s bed. They’d taken him off supplemental oxygen, but the bandages around his forehead still made Matt’s condition look pretty dire.

Matt gave a non-committal grunt.

Foggy added, “uh any news?” In lieu of a verbal response, Matt pushed the container of orange juice towards Foggy. “Oh, thanks,” Foggy said, happily peeling back the lid.

“Has your doctor been in to see you?” Foggy tried again.

“No, I don’t know what’s going on, apart from my head hurts,” Matt said miserably.

“I’m not surprised. Do you remember what happened?”

Matt made a face. “Not really – actually, no, not a clue.”

“You were chasing a guy down the street and you had a seizure.”

Matt looked confused. “That’s why Claire said – uh, who was I chasing?”

“A guy called Angelo Pellegrini. He came into our office and then got spooked and ran out just as we’d almost convinced him to act as a witness for Melvin’s case.”

Matt tilted his head as if to say, ‘go on’.

“Daisy warned you about the seizure, but you chased him anyway… then you fell on the sidewalk and hit your head… and now….” Foggy gestured at the bed.

“Huh,” Matt said, digesting. “I should have listened to Daisy.”

Foggy huffed, “yeah, bud.” He was relieved that Matt didn’t remember the hysteria of the night before, nor Foggy’s less-than-sympathetic words. Foggy patted Matt’s blanket-covered knee. “But there’s no point dwelling on what ifs. Let this be a lesson to you. It’s simple: next time, don’t ignore Daisy’s warnings.”

“I-I remember Pellegrini. I can’t remember chasing him though. What was I thinking?” Matt rubbed his eyes, wincing as the skin pulled around his stitches on one side. “Have you seen my glasses?”

“Oh, yeah,” Foggy said, rummaging through the duffle bag for one of the spare pairs Foggy had bought at Oracle Cove in case of accidents like this. Matt didn’t know about Foggy’s stash of glasses, but he did pick up Foggy’s change in heartrate as he handed them over with a chipper, “there you go.” Matt tried to thread them onto his face, but between the cannula and the bandage around his forehead, he didn’t have much luck.

“Matt, I think you might have to wait until some of those grazes have healed.”

Matt touched the graze on his upper cheek. “How bad is it?”

“On a Daredevil scale or normal human scale?”

Matt tipped his head back with a groan. “Please, Fog.”

“Okay, okay. Um, it’s pretty bad. The left hand side of your face is bruised and you have grazes on your upper cheek and chin. The gash on your forehead is pretty big. Another scar for your collection.”

Matt raised his eyebrows, once again wincing as the wounds pulled.

“Sorry, I’ll try to avoid saying anything that triggers your scab-splitting expressions of withering judgement,” Foggy said.

They were saved from the near argument by the arrival of Matt’s regular neurologist, Dr Millet, who demanded a recap from Foggy on the previous day’s events. Matt looked cross when Foggy mentioned last week’s three days of seizures in a row.

“Have you been doing anything unusual?” the doctor asked. “Sleeping less, consuming drugs or alcohol?”

“I-I guess I was a bit tired,” Matt said truthfully. But there was no way around it, not if he wanted to solve the mystery of the druggings.

“You know lack of sleep lowers your seizure threshold, Matt. I want you to get eight hours sleep, preferably at the same time every night. We’ve talked about circadian rhythms and how your lack of light perception-”

“Yes,” Matt snapped. Of course he knew how the lack of light affected his sleep. He’d spent decades battling the problem. He could hear Dr Millet lightly sigh at his combativeness. He took a deep breath and said, “sorry. I-I know the – I-I’ll try and get more consistent.” Matt tried to ignore Foggy’s small huff of disbelief. 

Matt passed the usual tests, pointing his toes, pressing against Dr Millet’s hands, and so on. “That’s good, Matt,” she said as he balanced on one foot, and then the other. “You can get back into bed now.” He sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, expecting her to tell him that he was free to go, but she said, “I’d like to keep you in here for another night-”

Matt started, “But-”

“Hang on, let me finish,” she said. “I’d like to keep you in here for another night for observation. Given that your seizures are the result of a head injury and the effects of such injuries are cumulative, I’d like to make sure that yesterday’s fall hasn’t caused further damage, particularly as you had a second seizure last night. I’m a bit worried about the recent increase in frequency too. The three seizures last week might well have been an anomaly, but it I think it might be time to consider a change in medication.”

Matt sat up straight. “No.”

“Matt,” Foggy hissed, earning a scowl from his friend.

“I can’t force you,” Dr Millet said. “But if you’re going to leave against medical advice then I need to go over your home care. Given the likelihood that you sustained a mild brain injury yesterday when you fell, you need to avoid all kinds of stimuli for at least a week. That means no reading, radio or television, no physical activity.”

“Matt please,” Foggy whispered. “Please stay here for another night.”

Matt gritted his teeth. “No.”

Foggy looked at Dr Millet and said, “do you think we could have a minute alone?”

Dr Millet raised her eyebrows. “Yes, but I have other patients to get to, so you need to make your decision fast.”

“I’ve made my decision,” Matt said crisply, jumping out of bed just to make his point. He gave a small, “ooh,” as his head started to spin.

“Woah,” Foggy said, putting his arm out to catch Matt as he swayed.

“I’m fine,” Matt said, batting Foggy’s arm away. He hunched on the edge of the bed, breathing away the nausea.

Dr Millet said, “Matt, please sit until we get your discharge papers ready.” But Matt wasn’t listening. He slid off the bed as he experienced his third seizure in eighteen hours. Foggy managed to catch him before he hit the floor, thankfully avoiding yet another knock to the head.

“Good catch,” one of the nurses said to Foggy.

Foggy ignored the quip, stepping back to let the nurses take over. Once Matt had stilled, Foggy looked at Dr Millet. “I guess he’s staying a bit longer then.”

 

* * *

 

When Matt awoke from his post-seizure sleep, he could sense a figure sitting cross-legged at his feet. Matt moved his foot and found it trapped under the taut blanket. The figure said, “oh, hey Matt. Am I in the way? I just thought if I sat here, I could help rebalance your chi by realigning your body’s energy flow.”

Matt furrowed his brow. “Danny?” His voice was muffled by the oxygen mask. Embarrassed, he pushed it down to his neck. Unlike everyone else he’d ever done that in front of, Danny didn’t replace it against Matt’s will. He merely said, “are you feeling better?”

“Uh…” was all Matt could manage. He rolled over and reached for the bedside table that should have been right next to him.

“What are you looking for,” Danny asked, lithely jumping off the bed.

“There should be some water…” Matt waved his hand in the general direction of the table, rather than waste his energy finishing the sentence.

As Danny poured the glass of water, he said, “you know, you’re rocking the Halloween mummy look there, Matt… all those bandages.”

Matt closed his eyes. The last thing he wanted right now was a visit from Danny.

“Sorry. I hope I haven’t – uh, you’re looking great, man. Really great.”

Matt screwed up his face, confused. “I feel like shit so I probably look like shit,” he grumbled. “Where’s Foggy?”

“Dunno. Probably at work?”

Matt gave a small nod. “What’s the time?”

“Never mind that. I have more important news,” Danny said, jumping back onto the bed and crossing his legs. He whispered conspiratorially, “I tracked that guy you were after.”

Matt opened and closed his mouth a few times before choking out, “you what?”

“Uh, what’s his name - Pelle-something?”

“Pellegrini.”

“Yeah that’s the one.”

“H-how, why?”

“He must have been important to you – I heard what happened.”

Matt rubbed his eyes.

“Uh, is that thing important?” Danny said, pointing at the mask that was still around Matt’s neck.

Matt couldn’t quite sense body movements so soon after the seizure and he stuttered a “what?”

“The mask. You pushed it off. I thought it might-”

“No, I think-I think it’s just a waking up thing – or something. They overreact. I’m fine,” Matt said quickly. “Tell me about the – you’ve – why were you following me?”

“I’ve been following you for weeks.”

“I know.”

“I know you know,” Danny said.

“You knew I know?” Matt said, tilting his head.

“Duh, of course. You have bat ears. Like you wouldn’t hear me behind you. I just figured there was a reason you wanted to be alone.”

Matt sunk back in the pillows. Maybe he didn’t give Danny enough credit.

He was about to ask about Pellegrini when lunch was delivered. “Meatloaf,” Matt said when the orderly left. He wrinkled his nose.

Danny pulled the lid off the offending plate. “You don’t want it?”

“I’ll have the salad,” Matt said.

“Can I have-”

“Go for it.”

Danny passed Matt the salad, which he nursed, but didn’t even attempt to unwrap. Danny took a tentative first bite of the meatloaf, hissed an enthusiastic, “yessss”, and practically inhaled the rest of the meal, including the grey beans and soggy carrot. Matt smiled as he thought of all the jokes that had been made about the inedibility of the hospital meatloaf. Not even a hungry Foggy would touch it.

“This place is great,” Danny said, once he’d scraped the plate clean. Matt’s smile quickly faded as Danny continued, “you get meals in bed. All these cool machines… I mean I guess it’s not so good in terms of you feeling sick, but it’s cool in other ways. The people are super nice – one of the nurses said that you were the smartest person. She said you made her a paper dolphin. Do you make dragons or is it just dolphins? I’d love-”

“Danny, stop.”

“Oh, am I talking too much again? Colleen says-”

“Yeah, you’re talking too much,” Matt said, closing his eyes. _Lord, give me strength,_ he thought to himself.

“Hey, are you okay? You’re looking a bit pale.”

Matt sighed. “I…” he wanted to say that he needed to rest, but his curiosity overrode his tiredness. “What did you find out about Pellegrini?”

“He’s hiding out. Just him. There’s a workshop – an old garage – that has like a single room up top with a toilet and a microwave. He’s been hiding in there. Just him.”

“So it’s not his usual apartment,” Matt confirmed.

“Not sure. I don’t think you’d pay rent for that kind of place,” Danny said.

“It’s New York. People pay to live in a gutter,” Matt muttered. Danny really had no idea.

Danny looked a bit disheartened at Matt’s outward lack of enthusiasm. “It’s good news though, right?”

Matt squeezed the bridge of his nose. His headache was getting worse and he desperately wanted to be alone.

“Matt, are you okay?”

“M’just tired.”

“Yeah, I get it. Do you want me to continue balancing your chi or-”

“It’s very generous of you, Danny, but no thanks.”

“Okay. Maybe another time. I can come to your place, or you could come to mine. You’ve not been to my apartment yet. It’s not as cosy as your place – or the dojo – it’s all glass and tiles and new stuff. I think I need-”

“Yeah, another time,” Matt said, cutting short yet another of Danny’s monologues.

Danny jumped off the bed. “See you, Matt. And thanks for the meatloaf!”

Danny was just out the door when Matt called out, "hey, Danny. Do you think you could take me to Pellegrini's hideout?"

"Yeah, of course, man. Anything you want. When do you get out?"

Matt thought for a moment. "Do you have a car?"

"Uh, yeah, I can call... but-"

Matt slowly kicked his blankets away and untangled himself from the oxygen mask and IV line. He pulled the plastic tubing away from his IV cannula but left the needle in place. From experience, removing it himself had always turned out very messy.

“I don't think that’s such a good idea,” Danny said, looking at Matt’s bandaged head.

“It's fine. I'll come straight back,” Matt said, slithering off the bed and taking a moment to assess his balance. “Foggy dropped off a hoodie this morning… can you see it?”

“You can't sense it with your - you know…?”

“No, after seizures, my senses get a bit muddled.”

Danny handed him the hoodie. “You have anything other than those puppy pyjama bottoms? They kinda stand out.”

Matt groaned. Foggy had evidently slipped in one of the brightly coloured pyjama sets that he loathed. He vowed to cull his entire patterned pyjama collection as soon as he was home.

"I guess not," Danny said, reading Matt's expression.

Matt grabbed his cane and glasses. He was about to slip his phone into his hoodie pocket when he remembered the tracker app. Matt planned to return within the hour and he didn't want to unnecessarily worry Foggy with a change in location. He tossed the phone back onto the bed, and said to Danny, “lead the way.”


	8. The great, er, what do you call it?

Matt ducked his head as he walked through the hospital foyer and out the main doors, his hand a little too tight around Danny’s arm. But if anyone thought it odd that a blind, pyjama-clad man was being led out of the building, they didn't say anything.

Matt exhaled with relief as he sat back in Danny's car, but did a double take as the scent of three decade-old upholstery foam finally registered. He ran his hand along the thin upholstery of the bashed up sedan. He smirked, “have you maxed out your cards already, Danny?”

“This is the one I got for _you_ ,” Danny replied, leaning through to the front and giving the driver an address. When he sat back, he added, “you’re welcome to use it any time – even when I’m not with you.”

“Oh… uh, that’s very – that’s very generous. But-but I’m okay with taxis, really.”

“Is it the smell? I tried to get one that smelled, like, neutral, but – um, I could get you a newer one – I just thought that, you know, you like things a bit, um, retro…” Danny petered off at the sight of Matt’s bemused expression.

“Taxi is fine,” Matt repeated.

Danny shrugged. “Well, if you change your mind....”

Matt closed his eyes as they started towards Pellegrini’s hideout. He was exhausted from the great escape. His head started to droop as he started to drift off to sleep, only to be returned to full consciousness by Danny’s, “I'll be skinned alive if Claire finds out I took you out.”

Matt opened his eyes. “I'll probably get the same treatment from Foggy,” Matt said with a wry smile. “Thanks though. I don't have time for all of this,” he said, gesturing at the cannula in his hand. “Not when my city's at risk.”

“ _Our_ city,” Danny corrected.

Matt bit his lip. He didn’t like this sharing business. He dug his hands into his hoodie pocket and shut his eyes again, hoping Danny would take the hint.

They hadn’t gone far when the driver called, “Mr Rand, this should be it. No number though.”

Matt tipped his head, trying to assess whether Pellegrini was in there. “Shit,” he said under his breath.

“Matt, what is it?”

Matt removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “My hearing's still screwed. They sometimes give me drugs to halt a seizure and when I wake up, it's a bit like being underwater.”

“That sucks.”

Matt gave a small huff of amusement at Danny's juvenile language. “Yes, it does... _suck_ ,” Matt agreed.

“So... do you want to get closer?”

Matt replaced his glasses. “Yeah, lead the way.”

Matt kept his cane folded as they crept towards the garage entrance. “He's in there,” Matt finally said, before correcting, “well, at least _someone_ 's in there. I have to get closer to know for sure it’s him.”

“How do you know?”

“Smell usually – o-or people's heartbeats if I know them well. Sometimes people have a limp or a watch with a distinct tick... but the identifying factor is usually smell.”

“Smell, ew. That's weird.”

Matt shrugged. “I use what I've got.”

Danny listened at the small door embedded in the larger garage door. “I can't hear him. Is he upstairs?”

“Yeah,” Matt said, feeling the door. He gave the door a light tap with his folded cane, listening to the resonance of the metal. “Simple lock. Do you have a bobby pin or something?”

“Uh, no. It's not really my style. Foggy rocks the long hair though-”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Help me out, Danny,” he said tiredly. “Can you see some thin wire anywhere?”

Danny ran to the nearest alleyway and returned with a crumpled roll of wire. “Like this?”

Matt picked the lock in a matter of seconds and carefully pushed open the door.

Matt stopped a few feet into the garage and hissed at Danny, “stop breathing so loudly.”

“Sorry.”

“You need to get your sinuses seen to,” Matt added.

Danny made a zipper motion across his mouth. As they got to the base of the stairs, he whispered, “Matt, wait, you don't want to go up there, do you? You look like you're about to keel over. You're in no fit state to fight.”

“I’m not here to fight. It's Pellegrini. He'll recognise me.”

“No offense, but you're wearing pyjamas and you look like you've escaped a hospital ward.”

“Funny that,” Matt muttered, starting up the stairs. He skipped one of the stairs, predicting it would creak, but before he could warn Danny, he'd stepped on it. There was an immediate reaction from upstairs.

Matt put a hand out to Danny. “Shit. Stop. The gun's already loaded.”

Now Matt wasn't stupid (well, mostly not). He'd fought when tired before, but that was usually when he was physically tired, not half-drugged and seizure-brained. He breathed out through narrowed lips, then called, "Mr Pellegrini. It's me, Matt Murdock... uh, the lawyer you met the other day."

"Yesterday," Danny whispered. Matt swiped at Danny’s head to try and shut him up.

Matt tried again. "Mr Pellegrini?"

Matt held his breath as he tracked the movements upstairs. Pellegrini had moved to the door at the top of the stairs and now had his hand on the handle.

“Mr Pellegrini, I mean you no harm. I- I just want to talk. You mentioned yesterday that you were afraid of retaliation-”

"Go away," came Pellegrini's husky voice.

“I can help you. Can we talk?”

"How did you find me?"

Matt pursed his lips. That was a harder question to answer. "I can help you stay safe. We can find a more secure place to say. Please, Mr Pellegrini, let me help you." Matt leaned against the door. His head ached and he was quickly running out of the last reserves of energy. He slid down the wall and sat heavily on the steps.

"Matt," Danny hissed. "Get up."

"He's not going to shoot us, Danny. He's lowered the gun," Matt whispered. He raised his voice again, "is that a yes to a quick chat, Mr Pellegrini?"

Danny pulled at Matt's arm. "Matt, I shouldn't have gone along with this. Let's go. I'll monitor him and we'll come back when you're in your lawyer costume."

Matt felt the rush of air on his cheek as the upper door was opened a crack. Danny helped Matt to his feet and they trudged up the stairs. Pellegrini raised his gun again when he spotted Danny. "Who's he?"

"An associate."

Danny held his hand out. “Danny Rand. Pleased to meet you.”

Pellegrini looked confused at Danny's formal introduction and looked even more confused at Matt's pyjama / 'hospital escape' garb. “What happened to you?”

“I fell,” Matt said. “Can we sit down for this? I'm a bit tired.”

"Sure... sure..." Pellegrini said, staring with great curiosity at the bandage around Matt's head. As Matt slumped into a dingy armchair, Pellegrini fixated on the cannula sticking out from the sleeve of Matt’s hoodie. It wasn’t exactly a professional look.

Pellegrini cleared his throat. "What's so important that you came looking like this?"

Matt sat up straight in an attempt to counter his self-consciousness. "I look after my clients, Mr Pellegrini. I take their safety very seriously, and I need to know that you'll testify at Melvin Potter's trial. We can go to the police station-"

"Not like that you can't," Pellegrini interrupted. "How's it going to look when you turn up looking like a mental patient?"

Matt pursed his lips. He reminded himself why he was there: Melvin. He was there for Melvin.

"Here's what I want you to do," Matt said slowly, over-enunciating each word. "Stay here, and when you're ready, call me. We can discuss our next move. But whatever you do, don't hide from us. We'll know." Matt's hand automatically went to where his suit pocket was, but realised embarrassingly late that his business cards were never kept in his pyjama pockets. “I – I'll give you my office number,” he said.

"How do I know you're on the right side? How – how do I-I know that you're not working for them."

"You sought me out, Mr Pellegrini. I think you already know the answer to that question." Matt levered himself out of the grubby armchair and flicked open his cane. "Danny," he said, swaying a little with the fatigue. "Uh, I think it's time to return to the hospital."

Pellegrini watched with an open mouth as Matt took Danny's arm, leaning on him as they made their way slowly to the stairs. "Uh, I hope you feel better soon, Mr Murdock."

Matt nodded, but didn't turn around.

 

Danny chatted away as they drove back to the hospital. Fortunately, the monologue didn’t require any response, so Matt closed his eyes and let his thoughts take him elsewhere. His thoughts were fuzzy and disconnected and struggled to conceive of a definitive next step. He didn’t know what he expected from the visit to Pellegrini’s hideout. In fact, he was now starting to question the wisdom of sneaking out in the first place. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Was it too much to hope that no one had noticed his absence?

As the as the lift doors opened and they stepped out onto the neurology ward, Matt suddenly stopped and said, “uh oh.”

Danny grabbed Matt's arm. “What?”

“Foggy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks oh lovely readers for all the great comments last chapter. It didn't cure the cold (I think I need to rest for that to happen), but it did make me much happier.


	9. Chapter 9

Matt forced a smile as he entered the room. Sometimes it was best to strike early with an unusual move designed to unsettle the opponent. “Oh hi, Foggy. We just went for a stroll,” Matt said casually, shuffling into the room and attempting to climb into bed.

Foggy gave a huff of disbelief. He stood there with his arms crossed until he realised Matt really was struggling to get into bed. Foggy gave a small groan of frustration and gave Matt an arm up, peeling back the sheets at the same time.

“You went for a _stroll_ ,” Foggy quoted once Matt was settled. Matt tried to adopt an expression of nonchalant innocence, sitting absolutely still while he waited for Foggy's inevitable rant to begin. “You went for a stroll, and you just happened to stroll into – what is that, old motor oil? Motor oil and thick grey dust.”

Matt touched his pyjama pants. If only he hadn't sat on those stairs... “Uh, I sat down on something – I think a machine or something. It must have been covered in oil.”

Foggy glanced at Danny, who was looking sideways at the wall... anywhere but Foggy. “Danny, where did you take him?”

“I-I didn't take him anywhere,” Danny said, looking at Matt with a pleading expression – a redundant move if there ever was one.

In the subsequent silence, Matt pulled at a loose thread in his blanket. Eventually, he cleared his throat. “Danny, can you leave us please.”

Foggy crossed his arms as Danny slunk out of the room. "Why didn't you take your phone with you, Matt? I was worried."

"I didn't want you to worry. I know how you get-"

"You know how I get worried so you decided to make me more worried?"

Matt put his hands out. "That-that wasn't my intention."

"I checked the chapel, all the floors, the nurses had no idea where you were. Claire-"

"You rang Claire?"

"Yeah, she wasn't too happy about being woken up in the equivalent of her 'night' by the way-" He stopped. “Shit, I have to call Karen. She’s out looking for you.”

Matt’s face flushed. He tried to cover his embarrassment by saying, “ergh, this hoodie’s too hot.” Foggy watched in angry silence as Matt pulled the sleeve gingerly over the IV cannula, and threw the stinking hoodie at the end of his bed. Sitting back with a tired sigh, Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. "I need something for this headache," he said, feeling around for the call button.

Foggy resisted the urge to reply with something snarky, wordlessly handing Matt the button instead. He hesitated, and then said, “I’m going to call Karen and then I’ll be back. This isn't over, Matt.”

"I know," Matt whispered as Foggy ducked out into the hallway.

To Matt's disappointment, he didn’t know the attending nurse. She was older and rougher than Elsa, and smelled of oatmeal, artificial lemon-scented cleaner, and stale tobacco. He rolled his eyes as the old woman clucked over him, flushing the cannula in his hand, checking his blood pressure and oxygen sats, and so on. Matt was getting increasingly frustrated with her pace and finally snapped, “can I just get something for my headache?”

“Yes, dear, but I need to check your vitals first. You mustn't run out on us like that.”

“Sorry,” Matt said, dipping his head.

Foggy chose that moment to re-enter the room, of course. He muttered, “ _now_ he's sorry.”

"I'm going to call your doctor, but I'll get you some Tylenol in the meantime," the nurse said, putting a hand on Matt's arm. He shifted uncomfortably under her touch. Everyone touched him in the hospital. No one ever asked permission.

Foggy said anxiously, "his doctor? Is he okay?"

"He was meant to be avoiding unnecessary stimuli, which included leaving the ward." She emphasised the last five words as if scolding a child. She gave Matt another pat on the arm. "Now don't go anywhere, dear. Your friend was in a lather."

As soon as she'd left the room, Matt tipped his head back against the pillow with a groan, "this place is ridiculous. I left, I came back, I'm _fine_. I just need to go home and rest. The hospital is like stimulus central compared to home – all that crying and talking, and the constant _touching_." He practically spat out the last word.

"Okay, okay," Foggy said, sensing Matt was about to descend into one of his rages. He moved the ceramic tea cup from Matt’s bedside table to the sideboard, well out of reach. "What about if you stay here tonight and then we negotiate a release tomorrow?"

Matt frowned. He expected more scolding from Foggy, not a plan for release.

But Foggy wasn't finished. “The thing is, Matt, you need to take this seriously. They said your breathing's been even worse than usual post-seizure, _plus_ you've had three in the last 24 hours. Doesn't that tell you that you should rest instead of leaping around with Danny in your pyjamas?”

“That have puppies on them,” Matt grumbled.

“They look like Daisy.”

“Not the point. You can’t keep tricking me into wearing pyjamas with novelty prints. It’s not fair.”

Foggy sighed. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d – hmm now’s not the time.” He pulled a duffle bag onto the bed. “I just brought some plain ones from home if you want to change. There are some plain ones in here somewhere,” he said, rifling through the bag. “You probably _should_ change. You're putting grime all over the sheets.” Foggy hesitated, not sure whether to push his luck or not. “Uh, where did you go anyway?”

Matt opened his mouth to say something then closed it again. His immediate impulse was to lie. But he couldn’t come up with anything even vaguely plausible.

“Or just tell me why you’re lying to me, Matt? I don’t get why – what have I done to deserve this? You tell Danny – you-” Foggy bit his lip to stop himself from spilling over. He hated calling Matt out on his lies, but ultimately it was more comfortable than stewing in bitterness and anxiety. The toxic feelings of jealousy over Matt and Danny’s friendship were starting to creep back. In this scenario, Danny was the fun chilled-out friend who was willing to go along with whatever harebrained scheme Matt was acting on, while Foggy was the boring, nagging adult. It wasn’t fair.

Matt licked his cracked lips and reached for the jug of water beside the bed. He poured a glass, conscious that Foggy was watching his every move. He wished Foggy would tell him what to say – tell him how to make it better.

The silent stand-off was broken when the nurse re-entered the room. Matt put out his hand for the Tylenol, hoping that he'd avoid the nurse’s incessant touching by stretching out as far as possible. As he swallowed the pills, however, she gave him an affectionate pat, which in turn earned a scowl most horrid. She raised her eyebrows and looked at Foggy, who just shrugged in response.

Unimpressed with the perceived rudeness, the nurse said in a crisp tone, "your doctor's coming up now, dear. _Stay_."

 

Dr Millet was predictably unimpressed by Matt's mysterious disappearance. She issued all sorts of threats to try and get Matt to take his injuries seriously. Despite his residual anger, Foggy successfully negotiated the terms of Matt's next-day release, which was then counter-negotiated by Dr Millet with a clause about repeated seizures. The new medication proposed by Dr Millet earlier that morning was tabled for another appointment.

"There you go, Matt," Foggy said as Dr Millet left. "Home tomorrow as long as you have no seizures within the next twelve hours.”

“Thanks, Fog.”

“But that means when you get home you need to chill and sleep and not do anything that engages that broken brain of yours."

Matt gave a choked cough at the word 'broken'.

“Will you run away if I go get a coffee?”

“Honestly, Fog, if I’m going to – in your words – chill, I’m probably best off on my own. You can go back to work if you’d like.”

“Matt, it’s after six PM.”

“Oh.”

“If anything, I’m going home.”

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

Foggy looked at Matt with narrowed eyes.

“I won’t run away,” Matt added. He gave Foggy what he hoped was a reassuring smile and tried to look innocent. “Really, I promise.” He reached for Foggy’s hand. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I just – I just get a bit obsessed when I’m following a lead, you know?”

“I’ve noticed,” Foggy said, giving Matt’s hand a squeeze in return. “Rest so you can come home. Daisy missed you last night.”

Matt’s swallowed. “I missed her too,” he said in a small voice. He suddenly wrinkled his nose, “oh no, they’ve got that roast beef for dinner.”

Foggy gave a huff of amusement. “Punishment for your sins, Matt.” On seeing Matt’s stricken expression though, he added, “I’m kidding. Shit, can I not make any joke about your Catholicism?” He stepped sideways and backed out of the room. “Yeah, so tomorrow… bye!”

 

Having aborted her search for Matt, Karen turned up just as Matt had finished picking through the ‘safe’ items on the dinner tray: the bread roll, the side salad and the strange apricot custard pudding concoction.

“Oh, Matt,” Karen said as soon as she passed through the door. “I’m so glad you’re safe. Foggy told me-”

“He didn’t need to worry – or worry you. I’m fine.”

“No offense, but you don’t really look fine.” She stared at the grazes down one side of his face. They’d taken off the bandage around his head now that the bleeding had stopped, giving the stitches a chance to breathe. They cut an angry black line across his forehead with blooms of purple bruising on either side.

Matt shrugged. “Really, I’m feeling a lot better.”

“So you decided to worry everyone by running away,” Karen blurted out.

“I didn’t _run away_. I came back.” Even to Matt’s ears, his excuses seemed lame.

Karen’s breath hitched as she started to say something and changed her mind. Eventually, she said softly, “you know Foggy was nearly beside himself. He cares about you, Matt. We both do. Can’t you just – can’t you care about yourself too?”

Matt opened his mouth and closed it without a word.

“I-I got you a balloon,” she said, nudging the weighted bottom against Matt’s hand. “I should have led with that. Sorry.”

Matt ran his thumb nail along the corrugated ribbon. “What’s this one got on it?”

Karen paused. “Mmm… don’t take this the wrong way. They didn’t have many options left. I think it’s some kind of rat.”

“A _rat_ ,” Matt repeated with raised eyebrows, immediately wincing as his wounds pulled. Karen cringed in sympathy.

Straightening his face, Matt pulled the balloon to his lap and tapped the foil a few times, enjoying the resonance. “Thanks, Kare.”

Karen sat on the edge of his bed and they attempted conversation for a good ten minutes until it became clear that Matt was about to crash. In the wake of the drama, the fatigue from the residual benzos and multiple seizures was finally making itself known. As Matt’s eyes started to droop, Karen smiled and said in a low voice, “so then I told him that Daredevil was my boss…” When Matt didn’t respond, Karen gave his hand a small squeeze and left him to it.

 

Matt spent the next twelve hours alternating between sleep and attempts at meditation. The noise of the hospital made it near impossible to relax completely, but he got a few moments of peace. Most importantly, he’d gone twelve hours without a seizure, and so the next morning, Matt was released on the condition he rested and didn’t return to work for at least a week.

Despite Matt’s protests that he was, in his favourite words, “fine”, Foggy accompanied Matt home, set him up in bed with a sandwich, a cup of tea and a jug of water, and then headed off to work alone. And so once again, Matt was left at home, tired, bored and sore. He slept most of the morning, but by mid-afternoon, he was itching to do something. He was sick of being home while Foggy toiled away at their shared business, while there were cases to defend and people to help. He managed to dictate a few notes into his phone about the Pellegrini interview, but even that was tiring and he ended up falling asleep with his phone still recording.

The next day passed much the same, although being a Saturday, he at least had Foggy for company. Danny turned up unannounced mid-afternoon, bringing food and news about Pellegrini. It seemed that Pellegrini heeded Matt’s advice and had been hiding out in the garage ever since their visit. There didn’t seem much sense hiding the mission from Foggy anymore, so Matt confessed to meeting Pellegrini at his hideout, and the three of them nutted out a contingency plan just in case Pellegrini went AWOL.

Matt’s plans to attend Sunday mass and his session with Julia (despite his strict instructions to rest at home), were scuttled when he had a seizure early that morning. When he woke, Matt was predictably furious with himself, his brain, his universe… _everything_. Foggy ended up leaving the house for an hour just to avoid Matt’s foul mood. Although Foggy felt terrible thinking it, he was looking forward to escaping to the office the following day. Matt’s acceptance of ‘rest and relaxation’ wasn’t great at the best of times, but his current frustration was almost unprecedented.

When Foggy returned home from his ‘errands’, Matt’s bedroom door had been pushed wide open and Danny was sitting cross legged at the end of Matt’s bed, his eyes closed.  As Foggy crept to the doorway to try and figure out what the hell was going on, Daisy jumped up and scrambled over Danny in her haste to greet Foggy.

Danny’s eyes snapped open. He blinked a couple of times, then said with a smile, “oh hey, Foggy.”

Foggy glanced down at Matt, who was curled under a blanket, seemingly asleep. “Danny, what in earth are you doing?”

Before Danny could respond, Matt gave a groan and rolled over, startling as he realised there was someone sitting at his feet. He rubbed his eyes and said grumbled, “Danny, stop trying to realign my chi.”

Foggy snorted. “That’s a thing?”

Concurrently, Danny answered, “yes”, and Matt replied “no”.

“Right then,” Foggy said, not sure whether he was more surprised or relieved that Matt said no. “Uh, so… I was thinking of making that mushroom pie you taught me, Matt. Maybe – uh, Danny do you want to join me?”

When Danny didn’t respond straight away, Foggy gave him a meaningful glare and tipped his head towards the door.

Danny finally cottoned on. “ohh,” he said, scrambling off Matt’s bed.

Seeing Matt’s less-than-happy face, Foggy ventured, “Matt, I thought – uh, you’re welcome to make pie if you want – I-I just thought you’d be tired and-”

“I might sit this one out, Fog,” Matt croaked, closing his eyes.

“That’s cool.” Foggy paused then added, “I’ll come get you if we need advice from the pie master.” He expected a smile or at least some kind of acknowledgment, but Matt simply pulled the blanket up to his chin and rolled back onto his side. Foggy sighed and closed the door behind him as he left.


	10. Chapter 10

Matt tied a piece of string to the end of Daisy's 26th braid just as Foggy walked through the door. “Keeping busy then,” Foggy said, peering over Matt’s shoulder to inspect the rows of Daisy's neatly braided fur.

“Mmm... very,” Matt replied. It was Wednesday and Matt was well and truly stir crazy after five days at home following the two days in hospital. He plucked the knotted string from the ends of the braids and combed Daisy’s fur straight with his fingers. The dog suddenly animated, shaking free of Matt's hands and jumping up at Foggy in greeting.

Foggy wandered into the kitchen and poked at the cake cooling on the bench. Sniffing the enticing smell from the oven, he crouched down, squinting at the puff of something golden and delicious poking over the top of the baking dish. Foggy stood up with a groan and said, “you know, when they said rest at home, I don't think baking-”

“Don’t eat it then,” Matt snapped. “I'm going mad, Foggy. Even if I accept the diagnosis of a concussion, their order to _cut out all stimuli_ is ridiculous. I can’t just switch my brain off, I can’t stop listening or thinking.” Matt shuddered as he exhaled.

“I know,” Foggy sighed.

“I know you take a hardline view towards,” Matt waved his hands and then spat, “rest.” He swallowed, “but really, going to work tomorrow and doing boring stuff honestly isn't going to hurt me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Come into work tomorrow.”

“But-"

“I'm sick of your moping,” Foggy said.

Matt looked taken aback, then spluttered, “ _moping_ – _you’re_ sick of – so it’s all about you now?”

“Don't think of using that strategy to wear me down next time, Murdock.”

Matt sat up straight. “If- if there's a next time. Don't –don’t jinx me.”

“Whatever,” Foggy replied, looking back at the cake. “Now do we have any cream to go with this puppy or do I need to pop down to the store?”

 

* * *

 

Matt leapt out of bed the next morning, disproportionately excited about returning to work. Foggy smiled into his coffee as he watched Matt spread butter over his toast with a theatrical flourish. He took a few bites before tearing off a corner of crust and flinging above Daisy’s head. The dog leapt into the air and caught it feet above the ground. After swallowing the buttery crust, Daisy trotted up to Matt’s side and performed a couple of strategic spins, her spirits buoyed by her owner’s good mood.

But the good mood didn’t last long.

“What do you mean we’re settling,” Matt yelled when Foggy told him about the class action suit decision once they’d reached the office.

“You were in hospital so I had to go to the meeting with Johnson & Smart alone.” Foggy saw Matt's hands clench. Looking at Karen's favourite (and very breakable) mug perched on the side of the reception desk, Foggy took a few steps away from the table towards the centre of the room. Thankfully, Matt unconsciously followed.

“But you didn’t consult with me,” Matt retorted.

“I consulted with our clients – _as we’re obliged to do_ – and they overwhelmingly supported the settlement. You wouldn’t have been able to convince them even if you tried. They get six figure settlements _each_. That’s more than we even dreamed of. And our cut… well, let’s just say it’ll keep the lights on for a long time. Plus we’ll be able to help more pro bono clients.”

“But you didn’t tell me.”

Foggy screwed his mouth up in frustration, counting to five before saying in a soft but forced tone, “that’s because you were meant to rest, and not occupy your brain with anything. The doctor said no stimuli, and I knew you’d go apeshit.”

Matt muttered a string of insults as he stormed into his office.

“At least he didn’t throw anything,” Foggy said to Karen. Seconds later, there was a crash as a mug smashed against the wall. Daisy skittered out of the room with her tail between her legs.

Foggy waited another couple of minutes before venturing into Matt’s office. He found Matt sitting bent over on the couch, quietly sobbing into his hands.

Foggy rubbed his hands. This wasn’t expected. “Uh, Matt. Are you okay?”

Matt snuffled and wiped his cheeks, but didn’t sit up.

Foggy took a step towards Matt, and said delicately, “I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I know how much you were invested in the case. I-I just didn’t want – I didn’t want you to damage your brain any further. They said no-”

“Stimuli, I know,” Matt snapped. “You keep saying. Please leave me alone.”

“Uh, okay.” Foggy said backing away. “Uh, can I help you clean up the shards of mug? It’d be terrible if Daisy cut her paw.”

“No,” Matt mumbled.

Matt didn’t emerge from his office for another hour, and even then, he only came out to grab a broom to sweep up the shards of broken mug.

“Matt, let me help,” Karen said, leaping up from her desk.

“No. I have to…” Matt petered off as he disappeared into his office and shut the door.

At six, Matt grabbed the spare gym bag from his office and mumbled something about going to Fogwells.

“Take Daisy,” Foggy said, extracting the still-scared dog from beneath his desk.

“Not tonight,” Matt huffed, stalking out the door before Foggy could even ask when he’d be home.

 

* * *

 

Three hours later, Matt quietly unlocked his apartment door. There was a chance that Foggy would be asleep in front of the movie booming from their living room, or if he was quiet enough, maybe Foggy wouldn’t turn around before Matt had slipped through to the bathroom. Alas, as soon as he stepped out of the entranceway, Foggy turned around and said, “hey Matt… shit, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Matt said, forcing a smile. “I’m just going to clean up. I’m sweaty and-”

“Sit down,” Foggy said.

“Foggy-”

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Foggy said. Matt was still standing frozen in the entrance, so Foggy said more firmly, “Matt, sit.” He took a step forward to get a better look at the wound. “It’s probably not enough to warrant Claire, but at least let me help.”

Matt walked slowly to the couch, scared that it was some kind of trick. He perched on the edge, relaxing slightly when Daisy raced down the stairs from the roof and gave him something to pat.

Foggy sat on the table and unpacked Matt’s smaller first aid kit. Alcohol wipes, cotton buds, antiseptic, bandaids… Foggy took it out, one by one, performing the familiar first aid ritual.

Foggy ripped open an alcohol wipe and held Matt’s head still. Foggy wrinkled his nose as he wiped away the dried blood covering Matt’s upper cheek. “So what happened that you’ve got yet another cut on your face? Another drug incident? Robbery? Mugging?”

Matt hesitated. “Uh, it was – it was… it was Danny. He followed me to the gym. I tried to ignore him but I couldn’t concentrate with his loud breathing just outside the door, so I asked him if he wanted to learn boxing.” Matt shrugged, as if the rest of the story told itself.

“Danny hit you?”

“Not intentionally.” Matt winced as Foggy wiped away a chunk of dried blood.

“Sorry,” Foggy said, wincing in sympathy.

Matt waved him off. “S’fine”

“How does someone accidentally hit someone, particularly someone who’s meant to be resting following a suspected concussion?”

“I had him in a chokehold,” Matt started.

Foggy rolled his eyes. “Of course you did… Matt, I don’t know much about boxing, but I know chokeholds aren’t exactly a sanctioned move.”

Matt pulled a face. “Yeah, I know. We got a bit bored of boxing. Too many rules. But then… Uh, Danny – he’s a good fighter, don’t get me wrong – but he can get…” Matt bit his lip, trying to come up with the best word. “Hmm… he can get a bit overenthusiastic. It makes him unpredictable and reckless.”

“How in earth did that guy win a fight against a dragon?”

Matt snorted. “Tell me about it.”

Foggy tipped Matt’s head so that he could better see in the light. “That’s better,” he said, admiring his clean up work. “You haven’t explained how a chokehold leads to blood yet.”

“Oh, that’s simple. His wrist watch is a bit sharp, that’s all.”

Foggy tipped a liberal slosh of antiseptic onto a fresh cotton wool bud and returned to Matt’s scrape. “So I don’t need to watch you for yet another possible concussion – his watch just grazed you?”

Matt cringed again as the antiseptic flooded his scratch. He waited for Foggy to finish before saying, “it’s just a scratch.”

“A mere flesh wound,” Foggy said in a high-pitched English accent.

Matt laughed. “I regret suggesting you watch Monty Python.”

“Tis but a scratch,” Foggy sang. “I’ve had worse.”

“It is really just a scratch,” Matt said seriously.

Foggy flicked through Matt’s extensive collection of bandaids. Foggy had secretly bought a box of Star Wars-themed bandaids a few months back, and had been biding his time until an opportunity like this came up.

“What’s wrong?” Matt said, picking up on Foggy’s slightly raised heartbeat.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Foggy said, quickly tearing open the Chewbacca packet. “Just – just please no more chokeholds for a while, okay?”

Matt chuckled. “Okay, mom.”

Foggy smoothed down the plaster, and stifled a laugh at the sight of his friend’s cheek.

“I’m taking this off before work tomorrow by the way,” Matt said with a smirk. “I don’t think novelty bandaids are the image Nelson & Murdock are trying to project.”

“Okay, smartypants,” Foggy said, getting up off the table. “Now, I made dinner for two, but I’ve already eaten so you’ll have to heat up the other half. Want some?”

Matt had expected some sort of scolding for the blood or the mug, or at the very least, a Foggy-specialty debrief about Matt’s rather obvious meltdown at the office. But it looked like Matt had escaped both for now. He smiled. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, Fog.”

 

* * *

 

The following morning, Foggy slipped into Matt’s office and closed the door. “What’s with the subterfuge, Foggy?”

“Nothing. Don’t be so dramatic. I thought this might be a conversation you’d like to have in private, that’s all.”

Matt furrowed his brow. This didn’t sound good.

Foggy took a deep breath.“I was thinking about the proceeds of the class action suit.”

Matt pushed back his chair and went to get up.

“Just wait, Matt. We’re going to have to have this conversation at some point.”

Matt rolled his eyes, but slumped back into his chair.

Foggy continued, “I was thinking, maybe we could donate some of it to charity, or we could give ourselves a bonus, or maybe employ someone else – Candy doesn’t want any more hours, but we have more than enough work for at least another full time employee. We could take on more pro bono cases that way.”

“Yes,” Matt replied.

“Yes to what?”

“All of those.”

“Oh, I was thinking one, rather than all three,” Foggy hesitated, but seeing Matt’s stormy face, added, “all three are fine. Th-that’s fine.”

“You can take the bonus, Fog. I’ll add mine to the charity.”

“No - no it’s okay,” Foggy said quickly. “I don’t need a bonus.”

“I think you do,” Matt said earnestly.

Foggy waited for the usual guilt-ridden speech, but Matt just sat there in silence. Eventually, Foggy ventured, “do you have any charities in mind?”

“Actually, I do,” Matt said, clasping his hands on the desk, suddenly in business mode. “I’d like to donate to the Hell’s Kitchen community library.”

“The library?”

“Yeah, I’d like to donate money with the specific purpose of making the library more accessible to kids with disabilities.”

“Oh, that sounds good. Very Nelson & Murdock.”

“I took Julia there a few weeks back and there’s only one computer with accessibility software on it – and even then it’s ancient.”

“That should be up to the institution to upgrade though,” Foggy said.

Matt shrugged. “Well, they’re not, and in the meantime people are missing out.” He tapped his finger on the desk. “I also want a more tactile learning area. At the moment there's just a painted mural.”

Foggy smiled, relieved that Matt seemed to be accepting the opportunity to move on from the class action suit decision. “Sure, that sounds great. And our new employee – do you want to talk about it now?”

“They have to be the right person.”

Foggy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know that, Matt. I’m not going to just pluck someone off the street.”

“And – and – I don’t want - you need to be able to spread the load. You’re still picking up the slack whenever I’m…” Matt swallowed. “I just don’t want to put it all on you, that’s all.”

“I’m sure you’d do the same for me, buddy,” Foggy said, giving Matt a pat on the back. “I guess we’ll advertise. I don’t know how this works. Candy and Karen just kind of landed in our lap.” Foggy mimed a headline, and said dramatically, “wanted: amazingly skilled and flexible defence attorney who’ll work for next to nothing and will put up with a colleague who disappears for days on end chasing crimes in fancy dress.”

Matt’s mouth twitched. “I might be able to work that into something a little more professional. I’ll draw up the conditions of the donation too.”

“See? That wasn’t so bad was it,” Foggy said, his smile faltering as Matt’s face turned. “Well, for the most part. Uh, I’ll leave you to it,” and with that, Foggy backed out of the office.

 

Matt stayed tucked away in his office for the rest of the morning, maintaining his distance until the afternoon meeting with Melvin Potter.

As they set up for the meeting, Melvin stared wide-eyed at the device in the centre of the table. Foggy said, “Melvin, it’s just a voice recorder – we use it so that we don’t miss anything. Everything you say is important.”

Melvin picked at the edge of the table and hummed an “okay.”

“Now, we wanted to talk to you about Angelo Pellegrini. We’d like you to tell us everything you know about him and your interactions.”

It turned out that Melvin knew very little about the mysterious whistle blower; however, he did fill them in on some of Fisk’s old network thanks to the hours he spent fitting out the top members of the kingpin’s empire. They apparently conducted entire meetings in Melvin’s workshop while being fitted for suits. Fisk and his cronies underestimated Melvin at their peril.

By the time the meeting was out, Matt and Foggy had the names of more than a dozen of Fisk’s former associates. Many were in jail already, but there were a few unfamiliar names on the list – criminals who escaped the initial series of arrests. Although it probably wouldn’t help Melvin’s case directly, it did give Matt a list of potential drug victims – or even the perpetrators. He still didn’t know who was taking out New York’s criminals, but the evidence so far pointed towards Fisk’s former criminal empire as a common link.

The meeting lasted a few hours, after which Matt pulled Melvin aside. “Thanks for the backpack and coat,” he said in a low voice.

“Oh, you used them?”

“Not yet. I’ve had a bit of a break.”

“You hurt? Your face, it-”

“This?” Matt said, pointing to the line of stitches. “Yeah, I – I fell. Unfortunately, I was wearing my office clothes, rather than your hoodie. Your hood would have saved me some stitches.”

“I could make you a suit. I used to make suits like this,” Melvin said, pointing at Matt’s suit jacket.

“No-no it’s okay,” Matt said. The idea of a Potter-made business suit was a little too close to Fisk territory for Matt. “Thanks though.”

 

As soon as Melvin had left the office, Matt pulled on his coat. “Foggy, I’m going to visit Pellegrini.”

“Not alone you’re not. You said he has a gun.”

“You do realise I know how to dodge a bullet.”

Foggy rolled his eyes. “Not every time - not figuratively at least. I’m coming.” Foggy pulled on his coat and waited for Matt to move. “Do you want to take Daisy?”

“No, not without her coat… just in case.”

Foggy glanced at the small dog who was standing there, wagging at the prospect of walkies. “Uh, Karen, do you think you could hold her for a sec.”

“Are you sure you want to do this, guys?”

Foggy replied, “if I don’t go with him now, he’ll do the black underwear thing tonight.”

“You realise I’m standing right here,” Matt said.

“Yup. Come on, Devil.” Foggy grinned and gave Matt an affectionate pat on the shoulder.


	11. WingFoggy

“Great work today,” Foggy said as they returned home. Their ‘quick’ visit to Pellegrini’s hideout had turned into an extended appointment at the police station with Pellegrini in tow. “The police have his statement and they’re aware of the potential threat to his life. You might get away with not having to go out at night at this rate.”

“People are still being drugged,” Matt said, shaking his arm out of his coat sleeve with a frustrated huff. “I’ve respected your suggested ban on going out for the last week, but things aren’t getting better out there, and the police don’t even know half of what’s going on. The city needs me out there.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“We’ve gone over this, Fog.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t have the skills, I’ll get hurt, whatever. All I know is that you’re fucked if you have another seizure and hit your head. I’m not just an honorary wingman, Matt. I’ve picked you up enough times that I’ve well and truly earned active wingman status.”

  
Matt’s mouth twitched.

“It’s not funny, Matt,” Foggy said, giving Matt a push. He bit his lip trying not to smile.

“It’s a bit funny,” Matt chuckled, backing into the kitchen. He rummaged through the fridge, looking for ingredients for dinner. “WingFoggy,” he said as he emerged with two beers, kicking the fridge closed with his foot.

“Noooo,” Foggy moaned, “you promised to come up with a better wingman name for me.”

“I’ve been busy,” Matt said, cracking the bottle tops off against the counter.

“Sure you have.” Foggy took a swig of beer and said, “no food?”

Matt shrugged. “There are eggs, or-” He stopped. “Shit, I forgot Daisy. She’s still at the office.” He dumped his beer and raced to the door.

“This better not be excuse to lose your wingman,” Foggy called after Matt. He ran onto the landing and yelled down the stairs, “Matt, can you pick up some dinner on the way home?”

Foggy perched on the edge of the couch with his beer and phone. He pulled open his location tracking app and watched as Matt made his way through Hell’s Kitchen to the office. So far so good. Foggy knew that it was a bit creepy tracking Matt like this, but after the hospital escape, it was clear to Foggy that Matt still didn’t know the meaning of self preservation.

Sure enough, half way home, Matt’s icon stopped and moved East away from home. Foggy swore and grabbed his coat, running down the stairs and almost tripping as he glanced at his phone mid-flight. Matt was now a couple of blocks away from the most direct route home. Foggy took the stairs two at a time, bursting out onto the street. He glanced down at the app after a block, and saw that Matt’s icon had stopped moving. Foggy didn’t know if this was a good or a bad thing, but in any case, he picked up the pace.

Foggy was half a block from Matt’s location when he slowed and listened for sounds of a fight or a seizing Matt. Nothing. Foggy stalked towards the corner, glancing left and right. As he was approaching a small alleyway, there was the sound of a bell jangling up ahead. Matt and Daisy walked into the street. Matt was juggling his cane in one hand, and Daisy’s leash and plastic bag of take out in the other.

“Shit,” Foggy said under his breath.

Matt stopped and tipped his head. “Foggy?”

“Oh, hi.” Foggy took a few steps towards Matt. “I see you got dinner after all. I was just-”

Matt raised his eyebrows. “Stalking me?”

“No… yes…argh.” There was no point lying.

“And you wonder why I leave my phone behind.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just worry, that’s all.”

“Well don’t. And stop using that location app for reasons other than those agreed by both parties or I’ll disable it.” Matt’s tone wasn’t angry, but he wasn’t joking either.

Foggy rolled his eyes and changed the topic. “What did you get anyway?”

“A Burmese curry and some kind of chicken stir fry.”

“Nice,” Foggy said absently. Realising his phone was still open on the location app, quickly closed it. He knew Matt was right on the privacy front. It didn’t stop him worrying though. Foggy pocketed the phone and they walked home in silence.

 

The following night, Matt finally gave in to Foggy’s constant demands to be an ‘active wingman’. They ended up crouched in the alleyway next to the notorious Hope and Anchor – a bar known to be frequented by New York’s shadier types. It had provided Matt with leads on many an occasion.

“I can’t believe I’m spending my Saturday night freezing my ass out here,” Foggy said, rubbing his hands together.

“You wanted to come, Foggy. This isn’t meant to be fun.”

“Can’t it be a little fun?”

In all honesty, Foggy’s main motivation for accompanying Matt was because be didn’t want to ask Danny. Foggy was great at the problem solving part of things (especially when he was somewhere warm with a beer in his hand), but he knew he’d be probably be more of a hindrance than a help if there were some kind of fight.

“Oh oh, I know,” Foggy said, tapping Matt on the shoulder. “We could go undercover in a club where there’s dancing. You could catch all the in-house dealers. Win-win.”

Matt huffed and touched his backpack, checking to see if Daisy was okay in her new mode of transport. She tried to lick him through the mesh, sniffing unhappily at the taste of the fabric.

Foggy whispered, “can you hear anything?”

“Not when you keep talking,” Matt snapped back.

“Okay, okay, no need to be like that,” Foggy replied. “Ergh, my knees.” He stood up and shook out his legs. “There’s a warm, well-lit diner just across the road. Can you listen from there?”

“No, I can’t. But you go ahead.”

Foggy crossed his arms. Matt wasn’t getting rid of him that easily.

After about ten minutes, Foggy cleared his throat and said, “just say your theory is correct – that Fisk is behind all of this… somehow.”

Matt stood up and tipped his head to say, go on.

Foggy continued, “why don’t we just go ask him? I mean he’s not going anywhere.”

“Foggy, are you insane? What, we just waltz into prison and say, hey, are you masterminding a scheme to drug all your former associates?”

“Well, not those exact words, but along those lines, yes.”

“And you’re expecting him to say yes – a straight out yes?”

“No, Matt. I just think we should talk to him – ask him a few questions. It can’t hurt.”

Matt put up his hand, “shhh…”

“What?”

“Get behind that…” Matt puzzled over the object for a moment, then finished, “that metal thing.” He quickly pulled his old Devil of Hell’s Kitchen mask over his head and then his hood. “Foggy, just hide for goodness sake,” he hissed.

Foggy looked over his shoulder at the metal crate and back at Matt, who had his intense listening expression on. Foggy rolled his eyes, tugged his hood further over his head, and ambled towards the crate. From his new position, Foggy said casually, “do I get to know why I’m hiding?”

But the answer came soon enough. There was a scuffling and a crash as Matt threw someone up against the alleyway wall.

“What do you know about the drugging of Lexie Smith?” Matt growled.

The man kicked and squirmed. “Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“Don’t know nothing. I-I-I swear.”

Matt drew back his fist and feinted a throw. The man squealed and stammered out a, “I only know Lexie from the bar. Never seen him outside. Honest.”

Matt growled and drove his fingers into a nerve point on the man’s chest. He screamed and Matt put his gloved hand over the man’s mouth. With one hand free, the man hit Matt in the shoulder. Matt stamped on his foot in return, using the distraction to pin the man’s free hand against the wall once again.

“What the fuck?” the man wailed.

Matt smiled. “Tell me what you know, Paco.”

“How-how do you know my name?”

“Give me information,” Matt replied in calmer, but now icy tone. Paco squirmed and was immediately punished with a warning push. Matt leaned in and whispered, “and don’t even think about lying. I’ll know.”

“I-I-I know Lexi was caught attacking a bunch of people, even his friends. Thought they were aliens or something. People say he was on drugs. There’s been a lot of that going around.”

“Who said that?”

“People. People in the bar, people in the street… I don’t know, man - people.”

“Give me names.”

“I don’t know names.”

Matt kneed the man in the stomach. “Give me names,” he growled, slower this time.

“P-Pellegrini,” the man stuttered. “He-he said – he said they was drugged.”

From his position behind the crate, Foggy drew out his phone to take notes.

Matt leaned into Paco. “Who else?”

“Uh, S-S-Skase, Snowy, Lucca, uh, Max… that’s all I got. Honest.”

“But you don’t know who’s behind it?”

“No – no if I did, I’d tell you,” he breathed, wincing as Matt feinted another punch.

Matt grunted and gave Paco an extra shove as he backed away. “If I were you, I’d get out of the business or you’ll be next… just some advice.”

Paco took a tentative step sideways, then another, before hightailing it down the alleyway. He tripped on a pothole in his haste, his arms wheeling as he regained his balance.

Foggy stumbled out from behind the crate as soon as the man was out of sight. “Shit, Matt,” he breathed.

Matt had his head down and was huffing with adrenaline. He flexed his hands and turned towards Foggy. “I got a few more names, didn’t I?” His voice was casual, as if he'd just conducted a friendly chat rather than a violent interrogation.

“Yeah, but – but – oh never mind. Have you got enough for tonight? Can we just go to Josie’s or something?”

Matt thought for a moment. Foggy’s voice had a slight waver to it. He shouldn’t be dragging poor innocent Foggy into this mess, keeping him out in the cold. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“Good. We’re going to get you a nice warming whiskey,” Foggy said, taking Matt’s arm. As they walked beyond the alleyway, he said, “Pellegrini eh? It looks like we have confirmation that within certain circles it’s known he knows about the druggings. We can use that to argue for protection. Who knows how long it’ll take before someone figures out where he’s hiding.”

“I don’t think ‘overheard at the Hope and Anchor’ counts as evidence, Fog. It’s not exactly the type of place non-criminals go to hang out.”

“Oh well, we know. Do you know the other names? I mean, Lucca – that could be anyone.”

“I do, unfortunately,” Matt replied. “Low level thugs. Little influence.”  
Foggy thought for a moment. “Is little influence a good or a bad thing?”

“You tell me,” Matt replied with a shrug. “I’ve lost track of the networks over the last six months. Hell’s Kitchen is falling apart and I can’t seem to stop it.”

“It’s not on you to fix it, Matt - especially not alone.” Foggy stopped and turned to Matt.

“We’re a good team. You, me, Karen, even Danny… to an extent. Speaking of which, can you hear him?”

Matt shook his head with an amused huff. “No, thank goodness. I think he’s still playing guard dog to Pellegrini. He’s dedicated to solving this, I’ll give him that.”

“I think he’s dedicated to you, Matt. Between Julia and Danny, you’re starting to collect groupies.”

Matt tipped his head back with a groan. “I don’t want groupies. I just want my city to be safe.”

“But what you’re doing with Julia – that’s making the city a better place…and your library donation, and our practice. Remember what you said about spreading your seeds, Matt?”

Matt started walking again, “I know, I know,” he said dismissively. “It just feels like everything’s out of my control.”

“It is,” Foggy called after Matt, trotting a couple of feet to catch up to Matt’s suddenly rapid pace. “Most things are out of your control, but that’s okay. You don’t need to be in control all the time. So you have a seizure and can’t go to work, or meet Julia, or go out at night – that’s okay. Your body is telling you to rest. You may not be able to control when or where, but you have Daisy and me, and Karen. We all make a difference in our own little way.”

Matt gave Foggy’s arm a squeeze in thanks. “Do you think Josie will let Daisy in?” he said, desperate to change the topic.

“The question is, do you want Daisy touching those floors with her delicate paws?”

Matt snorted. “Hardly delicate. You should see her, Foggy. She jumped off a dumpster onto a guy’s head the other week. Delicate is definitely not the word.”

Foggy stopped Matt and reached into the backpack. The tiny dog leaped into Foggy’s arms and then onto the sidewalk, shaking vigorously as if to protest the time spent confined to the backpack. She sniffed the ground then skittered over to a nearby pile of trash bags, jumping onto the top and chasing out a massive rat that was almost the same size as her.

“No, no, no, Daisy!” Matt started after the dog. “Disgusting, no!” Daisy grabbed the rat and gave it a single shake, and the rat fell limp in her mouth. She dropped it and gave a couple of spins, looking back at the two speechless men with a happy face and wagging tail.

“Definitely not delicate,” Foggy agreed. “Honestly, you two are quite the team,” he added, shaking his head in mock despair.


	12. The Cow

After missing the previous week’s meeting with Julia, Matt committed to spending the entire Sunday with his young mentee. Against his better instincts, Matt agreed to Foggy’s suggestion a few months earlier that they visit the zoo, but on the proviso that Foggy accompany him, Julia, and Elizabeth.

Foggy met them outside the church after mass where they piled in a cab bound for the Central Park Zoo. Julia kept up a monologue about her pre-blindness visit to the San Diego zoo for the entire trip. Matt laughed as she described the lizard with the baggy double chin. As they neared the zoo, she said in a small voice, “I wish I could see the lizard again.”

There was a silence as the adults around her tried to come up with a reply. Foggy looked back at Matt from the front seat, hoping that as the most qualified person to answer, he’d damn well speak up. But Matt was busy drawing lines in the condensation on the inside of the car window. Eventually Elizabeth patted Julia’s knee and said, “we’ll take you to the petting zoo, Jules. I think it’s a bit cold for the lizards at this time of the year, but there’ll be plenty of other animals.”

Being winter, there was barely a queue, but it didn’t stop Julia from jumping impatiently on the spot as they waited. “At least you won’t get cold if you keep that up,” Matt told her, rubbing his gloved hands together. He bounced on his toes a couple of times, trying to defrost his cold feet.

“I want to see a panda,” Julia panted to the rhythm of her jumping.

“You might have to settle for touching a cow instead,” Foggy said. “Same colours, similar frequency of movement. Eats green stuff.”

“That’s really helpful, Foggy. Thanks,” Matt muttered.

Foggy shrugged. “I try.” He touched Matt’s arm. “Hey, did you come here as a kid?”

“Mmm… once. A school excursion. Bobby O’Hern climbed up the side of the leopard cage – that’s all I remember. Oh and the petting zoo. It really smelled.”

“Nothing good?”

Matt shrugged. “My sense of smell was a bit sensitive at the time. I’m better at blocking it out now.”

“Oh,” Foggy said, cottoning on. “Well, hopefully you’ll enjoy this more.”

Matt got lost in the memory of the disastrous excursion before suddenly remembering his social cue. “D-did you come here as a kid?”

Foggy smiled, “yeah. Oh man, the memories…” The rest of their wait in queue was filled with Foggy’s memories of his childhood zoo visits.

On entry, they went straight to the children’s zoo. After Julia accidentally hit one of the lamb’s legs with her cane, Elizabeth took her arm and led her to each animal in turn. Foggy snapped photos of the four of them standing around the cow, and even caught a photo of Matt petting a baby goat, a soft expression on his face. He sent that one straight to Karen.

“Okay, you were right,” Matt said as they left the petting area.

Foggy was staring at a monkey padding along a branch and Matt’s words didn’t quite compute at first. He snapped back to attention. “Of course I’m right. What about this time?”

“The zoo. It’s been… fun.”

“Told you you’d enjoy it,” Foggy said, elbowing Matt playfully. “And it’s meant that you haven’t spent the day obsessing over criminal tracks.”

Matt’s face fell. Realising his mistake, Foggy tried to distract Matt again, blurting out, “now according to this fancy glossy-paged - and thus inaccessible to you - accessibility brochure, the aquarium has a tactile display.”

Matt’s mouth quirked. “We can feel the fish?”

Foggy frowned. “It seems unlikely. We’ll see.” He glanced sideways to see Matt chuckling into his scarf. “Okay, totally not likely.”

It turned out that the tactile display was merely fibreglass models of fish and other aquatic animals. Matt groaned when Foggy insisted he feel the eel.

As they left through the gift shop, Matt bought Julia a small stuffed cow. Despite Matt’s earlier cynical comments, the cow was the unexpected hit of the zoo visit.

“You spoil her,” Foggy teased as Matt handed over his credit card.

Matt shrugged. “It’s my prerogative. At least she’ll remember a cow’s form this way.”

Foggy turned away. That was not a reasoning he could argue with. He watched as Matt handed an excited Julia the cow, and she hugged it to her chest while recounting how lumpy the amimal’s legs were. “This is soft though,” she said, stroking the toy’s fluffy acrylic fur.

“Okay, maybe not _exactly_ the right form,” Matt whispered to Foggy with a grin. “My argument still stands though. I like buying things for her. And I know Elizabeth can’t afford much as a single mom. She’s far from spoilt.”

Foggy turned around and clapped his hands together. “Who’s up for burgers?”

Matt grinned and slipped his arm into Foggy’s. “Sure, just as long as it’s not beef.”

 

* * *

 

Climbing the stairs to their apartment late that afternoon, Matt groaned, “I suppose Daisy will want a walk now.”

“You wanted the dog,” Foggy said, waggling his finger.

Matt gave him a playful push. “You bully!”

“Okay okay, I guess I should offer to take Daisy out now.”

“No, it’s okay. I need to sort a few things out in my head ahead of Friday’s hearing.”

“But you know the argument inside out. You’ve already convinced the tiles in the shower that Melvin’s innocent more than six times over,” Foggy chuckled. Matt had recited his closing statement in the shower almost every morning that week. “You know what we should be doing – we should be writing an ad for our new employee – that’s if you’re still keen.”

Matt gave a small nod and continued up the stairs in silence. As they reached the sixth floor, he smiled as he heard the excited tapping of Daisy’s claws on the other side of the door. He pulled the keys from his pocket, but before he could single out the apartment key, he lost grip and they fell to the floor with a crash. Matt stopped still, looking puzzled.

“Dude, are you okay?” Foggy said, looking at Matt through narrowed eyes.

“Oh, yeah, fine. Tired… tired.” He hesitated, and Foggy grabbed the keys to expedite the process. Foggy had just turned the key in the lock when there was a crash behind him.

“Oh, shit,” Foggy sighed. He tucked his coat under Matt’s head and started timing the seizure. “You couldn’t have waited another minute?” he said redundantly. With one eye on Matt, Foggy pushed open the door to a frantic Daisy, who bounded out and started sniffing around Matt’s convulsing body. The seizure only lasted thirty seconds, but Matt had wet himself in the process. Foggy put his hand to his forehead as he calculated his next move.

“First thing’s first, Nelson,” Foggy mumbled to himself. Foggy rubbed Matt’s arm. “Hey Matt, respond to me, buddy. You’re in the hallway outside our apartment and I’d like to get you inside and out of your wet clothes. Do you think you can help me?”

Matt just winced.

“Yeah, I know. You probably feel like shit. But we’ll get you somewhere soft. These floorboards can’t be comfortable.” Foggy rubbed Matt’s hand. “Come on, Matty. You can do it.”

After a few more minutes of coaxing, Foggy managed to get Matt up and as far as the couch. “Wait, before you sit, let me get a towel,” Foggy started, but Matt was already crumpling into the couch. Foggy quickly slipped a throw underneath, trying to mitigate the spread of dampness. “Just wait, Matty, I’m going to get you a change of pants.” But Matt was already curling up on his side, his eyes closed. Foggy tried to grasp Matt’s right hand but he moaned and tucked it away. “Matt, is your hand hurt? Do you need me to call Claire?”

“No,” Matt grunted.

“No to it being hurt or no to Claire.”

There was a silence and then Matt mumbled, “no ‘laire.”

“Okay. But if it’s hurt, can I see it please? Is it your hand, your wrist, other?”

“Sleep.”

Foggy sighed. He was tempted to ask again. But it seemed easier just to wait till Matt had slept a few hours. “Okay, buddy. Let me give you some Tylenol though.”

Matt didn’t say no to that so Foggy grabbed the 99-tablet value pack from the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. “Take this and then we’ll change your pants and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Matt groaned in irritation, but made an effort when Foggy helped him sit up for a moment. “Good, Matt,” Foggy said as Matt swallowed. “That’s good. Um, Daisy’s here,” Foggy said, helping Daisy onto the couch. She leaned into Matt’s stomach, then sat down with an audible sniff. Foggy stuffed an extra pillow under Matt’s head before ducking into Matt’s room to find some spare sweatpants.

When he returned, Matt was fast asleep. Foggy hesitated, not wanting to undress an unconscious Matt, but also not wanting to wake him up either. “Matty,” Foggy whispered, “please help me.” Matt groaned as Foggy gave his shoulder a shake. Foggy undid Matt’s belt and draped a towel over his waist, tugging the damp pants and boxers off before attempting to replace them with the sweats. “Oof. I’m going to need your help, buddy,” Foggy said. “Can you stand just a little bit on the count of three?”

Matt gave a small grunt, which Foggy took as a reluctant yes. “Okay… one, two, three.” Matt didn’t move. Foggy sighed, “shit.” Matt was lying awkwardly with one foot dangling over the edge and the bent against a small cushion. The sweats were pulled to his mid-thigh under the towel so that the ends covered his feet. It would have been funny if not for the seizure. After a minute’s thought, Foggy decided that the towel / half sweats combination was probably fine for now, and threw a blanket over Matt for good measure.

Foggy stood back with his hands on hips, watching Matt sleep for a good five minutes. He broke from his zone out when Daisy gave a heavy sigh, resting her head on the edge of the couch. “I hear you, Daze,” Foggy said, before moving into the kitchen.

They’d had such a lovely day at the zoo that it seemed cruel to end it like this. Stressed and at a loss as to what to do, Foggy decided to revert to his old habits, pulling a beer from the fridge and collapsing on the couch with a packet of cheese loops and his video game control.  Living with Matt, he’d cut down on his video game and fake cheese habits, but he was anxious and video games always proved a good escape. Foggy cracked his knuckles. “Come on zombies,” Foggy muttered, “I’m not in the mood to fuck around today so watch out.”

 

Foggy was cooking dinner when Matt started to rouse. He coughed weakly and Daisy jumped off the couch, excited at the potential for action. She still hadn’t been for her daily walk.

As Matt rolled over, the towel covering his waist fell to the floor. Foggy yelped, “Matt, just wait-”

Matt felt his bare thighs and quickly and awkwardly pulled his sweats up to his waist. “Why are my pants-”

“You were covered with a towel until you rolled over.”

“Not my question,” Matt croaked. He sat up and rubbed his eyes with his right hand, instinctively holding his right arm to his chest.

“You wet yourself when you had a seizure – I don’t know if you remember. You had a seizure in the hallway outside.” Matt didn’t respond, so Foggy continued, “I tried to replace your pants with dry ones but you fell asleep before the task was completed, so I just left the towel over you. D-don’t worry, you weren’t lying there naked.”

“Sorry, Fog.”

“Don’t apologise.”

“You shouldn’t have to do that.”

“Matt, I’ve told you over and over. It’s fine.”

Matt bit his lip. “Julia – did Julia-”

“Nope. It was just us.”

Matt sighed and leaned back into the couch.

Foggy ventured, “do you remember the zoo?”

Matt nodded.

“Oh good. You don’t want that memory erased.”

Matt gave a grunt of agreement.

Foggy turned off the stove and wandered over to Matt. “Uh, how’s your hand?”

Matt flexed his right hand experimentally, wincing as the pain in his wrist bit back. “Sore.”

“You must have landed awkwardly. You wouldn’t let me see it when you woke up so I figured I’d just leave it till you were more conscious.”

Matt went to get up, but Foggy said, “stay. I’ll get whatever you need.”

“Tylenol,” Matt grunted.

“You had one a couple of hours ago.”

Matt closed his eyes.

“I can get you some ice instead,” Foggy offered.

Matt nodded, “there should be an elastic bandage in the first aid kit from last time.”

“Sure,” Foggy said, “your wrist - it doesn’t look broken. Can you tell?”

Matt shook his head. “It’s just swelling. As you said, I probably just landed awkwardly.” He licked his lips. “Actually, could I get a class of water too, Fog?”

Foggy hissed “gotcha” as he found the small wrist-friendly icepack under the packet of peas. He turned back to Matt, “there’s some on the table directly in front of you.”

“Oh.” Matt leaned forward with a grunt. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Foggy sat next to Matt. “Ice or bandage first?”

“Ice,” Matt said, finally re-opening his eyes.

Foggy wrapped the ice around Matt’s wrist and slipped one of his Foggy-patented headbands around it to keep it in place. “At least it’s your right hand again, Southpaw.”

“Yeah, lucky me,” Matt grumbled.

“I’m just saying, it could be worse.”

Matt sighed. “I think I’m going to go to bed. Actually shower, then bed. I stink.” He breathed out through narrowed lips, trying not to think about the stench of urine that he’d just become properly aware of. “What’s the time?”

“Six. Don’t you want some dinner? I made the Matt Murdock special,” Foggy said, referring to the first pasta sauce Matt had taught him to make: a basic tomato sugo.

Matt couldn’t ignore the hopefulness in Foggy’s voice. “Yeah, dinner sounds good,” he said, trying to rustle up some non-existent enthusiasm. He never felt hungry after seizures.

Foggy jumped up, oblivious to Matt’s true feelings. “Great. If you want to have a shower, I’ll put the spaghetti on.”

 

* * *

 

Despite the post-seizure fatigue, Matt insisted on accompanying Foggy to work the next day. Within half an hour of arriving at the office, Foggy and Karen heard the light snores of Matt sleeping in his office chair, his head tilted back at an awkward angle.

“Seizure?” Karen asked.

“Yeah, last night.”

“And that’s how he did his wrist,” Karen deduced.

Foggy nodded.

“It’s pretty cute when he snores,” Karen said.

“Yeah, well he’s going to end up with a crook neck from sleeping like that.” Foggy took a tentative step towards Matt’s office.

“Leave him,” Karen said, pulling Foggy back. “He needs the sleep.” Matt gave a larger snuffle and shifted into a more comfortable position. His breathing evened again, and both Foggy and Karen swapped a smile.

“Now, you were going to show me a draft of the advertisement for a new lawyer,” Karen said, turning back to her desk.

“Paralegal,” Foggy corrected.

Karen looked up. “ _Paralegal_? I thought you wanted another lawyer.”

“Uh, yeah, but we have to pay lawyers at lawyer rates.”

“But I can do paralegal work.”

“I know, Karen. But you’re one person. You still get to do all the fun detective work. The new employee won’t replace you. It’s just – well, we’ll have another pair of eyes for document review and all that boring stuff.”

Karen started sorting through the piles on her desk, clearly upset.

“If it helps, the advertisement isn’t even written yet. Matt had a seizure before we could get around to it yesterday. But maybe – maybe you could help me instead?” Foggy gave her a hopeful smile.

Karen rolled her eyes at Foggy’s clasped hands and begging eyes. “Okay, but I’m holding you to the detective work. It’s mine.”

“I wouldn’t dream of taking it away from you,” Foggy said, backing away with his hands raised.


	13. How does that work?

Matt always had a spring in his step two days after a seizure. Despite multiple medication changes, his seizures seemed to be still following the once every three day pattern (with occasional exceptions, both good and bad). It meant that while the day after a seizure was usually plagued by fatigue, he considered the following day a ‘safe day’ where he could get on with whatever project he was doing without the inconvenience of falling unconscious. So on Tuesday - two days after his apartment doormat seizure - Matt decided to enact the next step of his plan.

As they walked to the sandwich place on the corner for lunch, Matt said, “I was thinking about what you said, Foggy.”

“About getting Daisy a diamante collar? Please say you’re getting her that collar.”

Matt screwed up his face. “ _No_ , Daisy’s collar is fine. Just leave it-”

“Okay, okay, no collar,” Foggy said. He bent down to pat Daisy, who pulled away. In that moment, she was only interested in the apparently delicious-smelling fire hydrant.

Matt stopped to let Daisy have a lengthy sniff. “It was about Fisk,” Matt said in a low voice.

“And?”

“I was thinking maybe I could visit him – like you suggested.”

“ _We_ could visit, Matt. Not you alone. We both go.”

Matt gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Whatever.”

“I’ll get Karen to sort it out.”

“Uh, no, I’ll do it,” Matt said. “We might come into some, er, opposition from his lawyer.”

“Oh yeah, that dirtbag,” Foggy grumbled. “Smug as all fuck.”

“Yeah, well, I can use that against him,” Matt replied.

Sure enough, an hour later, Matt had successfully negotiated a supervised visit. Fisk’s lawyer was initially sceptical, but after speaking to his client, he rang back within five minutes, accepting the visit for that afternoon.

When Matt broke the news to Foggy, however, the response wasn’t quite as anticipated.

“Matt, we have court,” Foggy pointed out

“Oh, yeah, uh… hang on,” Matt said, cursing the three-day pattern as he disappeared into his office. Tomorrow was risky. The last thing he wanted was to have a seizure in front of Fisk.

Two minutes later, Matt returned and said, “tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s better,” Foggy said, following Matt into the kitchenette. “I don’t get it, Matt. You become obsessed with these cases at the expense of all else. Is this what it’s like – is this why you would disappear for days on end when you were – you know, doing the red costume thing?”

Matt flicked on the kettle. “I guess multitasking isn’t one of my strong suits,” he finally admitted. “When I’m on a case, it’s like nothing else matters. I-I can’t explain it. It’s not the same now. The seizures break the obsession, which is frustrating, but maybe… maybe it helps spread those seeds a little.” Matt smiled. “Thanks, Fog.”

“What for?”

“For indulging my obsessions?” Matt swallowed. “Or just for helping. I said to Karen once – I-I told her I couldn’t do this alone. I ignored my own advice for so long. I’m better with you.”

“Maybe you should get ‘not alone’ tattooed on your wrist in braille,” Foggy joked. “Where is Karen by the way?” Foggy said. “She just… disappeared.” He wandered over to her desk and shifting aside the mound of paperwork in search of a clue.

“Probably at one of her _long lunches_ ,” Matt said.

Foggy raised his eyebrows. “I swear, between the two of you… Ergh. What’s she investigating now?”

Matt turned his back and busied himself with his special tiny teapot. “Uh, I might have mentioned the lists and how I was having trouble cross-referencing Melvin’s list with our list of known victims.”

“Maaatt, you know how she gets.”

Matt shrugged. “I know. She wanted to help.” He turned around and gave Foggy a cheeky grin.

“Honestly, with all the free detective work we do around here, I’m surprised we earn any money at all.”

“Speaking of which, we’re due at court soon aren’t we?” Matt felt his wrist watch and reluctantly flicked off the kettle, stashing the teapot for later.

“Yep, come on, get your coat. You’ve got to earn your keep, Murdock,” Foggy said.

 

Their charges against their client were minor, and despite his earlier Fisk-related distractions, Matt was in fine form. Matt had not appeared in court much since his epilepsy diagnosis. He’d had so many days off work, and on the days he did attend work, the tiredness and fuzziness that came with the seizures made court appearances risky. Although it was never explicitly acknowledged by either of the partners, they both knew that Matt had suffered a corresponding drop in confidence. But his return to the streets had given him a renewed sense of self-assurance, and it showed in the courtroom.

Foggy smiled as he watched Matt virtually pulverise the opposition, poking holes in the arresting officer’s testimony and arguing that the evidence was speculative at best. The jury delivered a not guilty verdict almost immediately. Matt initiated a discrete fist bump with Foggy under the table as the decision was being read out, and then another as the judge awarded costs.

“Earned my keep, didn’t I?” Matt whispered.

Foggy chuckled. “This time, Murdock. This time.”

 

As Matt waited outside the courtroom bathroom for Foggy, a woman approached him. “Matthew Murdock, I’m Kirsten. Kirsten McDuffie. I work-”

“In the DA’s office, I know,” Matt said, offering his hand. He heard a slight hitch in her breath as she hesitated. Damn, he’d forgotten about the bandage on his wrist - the lingering injury from Sunday's seizure. He kept his hand out, and eventually she lightly took his hand. A ‘wet fish’ handshake, Matt’s father would have described it.

“I heard about the class action settlement,” she said.

Matt forced a smile and nodded. “Our clients were happy.”

“It’s a shame it didn’t go to trial.”

“As I said, our clients are happy with the outcome. That’s the main thing.”

“Are you happy being a defense lawyer?”

Matt tipped his head. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh I don’t know… the bit about defending criminal lowlifes.”

“My clients are good people, Ms McDuffie,” Matt said.

“Kirsten, please.” She paused, and said, “you ever thought of working for the DA?”

“I’m doing good work defending the people of Hell’s Kitchen, Kirsten,” Matt replied crisply. He forced another smile.

“Right,” Kirsten said sarcastically. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Mr Murdock.”

“Call me Matt,” he said, giving her a small nod of his head.

“Matt,” she repeated. “Okay, well, have a good day.”

Matt flashed her his best smile, “and you, Kirsten.”

Foggy exited the bathroom just as Matt was giving Kirsten a wave of goodbye. He patted Matt on the shoulder. “Consorting with the enemy?”

“Never hurts to keep them close, Foggy.”

“But having the hots for someone in the DA’s office is dangerous, even for you.” Foggy chuckled. “Actually, I take that back. _Especially_ for you.”

“I don’t have the _hots_ , Foggy.”

Foggy shrugged. “That’s cool. I’m just saying it’s been awhile. Maybe you _should_ be getting the hots for someone.”

“I’m not – I don’t have room in my life right now,” Matt argued. “I barely have time enough to meet my commitments as it is – tonight alone, I have to take Julia to martial arts class after work _and_ I want to follow up a lead. How do I fit anything else in?”

“Actually, instead of following that lead, can we just get this advertisement for our new employee finalised tonight instead?”

“See? No time,” Matt huffed. “How do I rationalise complicating things with a relationship on top of all this?”

“Make time, Matt. It doesn’t have to be serious. I could spend the night elsewhere if you wanted to bring a girl home. I don’t want to cramp your style.”

“What are you talking about? It’s your apartment too.”

“We both know that’s not true, Matt. And I’m just offering.”

“Yeah, well, I’m fine as it is. And- and you can bring anyone around if you want – I’m not going to judge.” He sighed. “Even Marci, if you want.”

“Pfft, no way. I’d never hear the end of it. Plus I don’t want to be responsible for that sigh of self-sacrifice you just gave.”

Matt gave a small huff of amusement at Foggy’s quick response.

Foggy continued, “yeah, don’t think I don’t recognise that sigh, Murdock. There’s no need to martyr yourself again.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Alright, not Marci, but someone – what about that woman you met at the club the other week?”

“She said she just wanted a dance partner, not a _partner_ partner.”

“Brutal,” Matt replied with a wince.

“Yep, of course if I had my wingman there… please Matt. Come dancing with me.”

Matt rolled his eyes and started towards the door. “I’ll think about it,” he called over his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Matt’s high over the court case and Julia’s outstanding martial arts training session was destroyed by the seizure he had later that night during dinner. His three-day seizure pattern wasn't exactly consistent, but it still threw Matt when he had one earlier than usual. As Daisy barked a pre-seizure warning, Matt panicked and dropped his drinking glass, which shattered on the floor. More concerned about the Matt than the glass, Daisy continued to jump up at his knees. She gave a small yelp as she cut her paw on a shard of glass, which in turn caused more hysteria from Matt.

“Matt, it’s okay,” Foggy said, jumping up from the table. “I’ll clean it up.”

Matt picked Daisy up and tried to hold her paw. “There’s glass in her paw, Foggy. I have to get it out.”

“No you don’t. You have to lie down. I’ll look after Daisy once you’re not standing over a pile of very sharp glass.” Foggy pulled Matt towards the bedroom.

“Foggy, I need to get the glass out. There’s glass in her paw.”

“Yes, I know. I’ll do that, but first, you need to lie down.”

“Foggy, help,”

“I _am_. Matt, please. Remember what happened last time you ignored her warning?”

Daisy squirmed under Matt’s tight grip. She always went a bit frantic before Matt had a seizure, and was completely intolerant to being held.

“Matt, put her down. I’ll call the vet and they’ll get the glass out.” He pushed Matt onto the bed. “Seriously, lie down and relax. You’ll just make it worse otherwise.”

“I hurt her,” Matt mumbled. “I don’t want – don’t want…” he rambled. Foggy recognised the signs of his pre-seizure confusion and snatched Daisy from Matt’s arms while he was distracted. Sure enough, seconds later, Matt let out a groan as his muscles contracted and fell sideways into the blankets.

Foggy went to put Daisy down, momentarily hesitating as a drop of blood fell onto the blanket. “Fuck,” Foggy said, but made a snap decision to put her down anyway. “Blankets can be washed,” he said to Daisy, moving Matt so that he was properly on his side.

“One minute,” Foggy counted, and ten seconds later, Matt’s seizure ceased. “Phew,” he said, looking at the small dog, who was now nuzzling into Matt’s chest.

“I’ve got to get you help, miss,” Foggy said to Daisy. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the internet search results until he found an out of hours vet who did house visits. “It costs what?!” Foggy silently mouthed a swear word. “I mean, I’m sure you’re very skilled and you trained hard. Um, can I call you back? Five minutes.”

He dialled Claire. “Uh, Claire, unusual request… do you do dogs?”

 

“So Matt’s okay, but Daisy’s hurt?” Claire said as she entered their apartment. She peered into Matt’s room.

“He’s sleeping the seizure off,” Foggy explained. “Daisy’s paw got cut when he dropped a glass. She refused to leave Matt’s side, so I figured it was probably just better to leave her be. At least she’s not walking on it.”

“Lucky,” Claire said, walking towards Matt’s room. She leaned over Matt and took his pulse – a habit more than anything.

Foggy followed. “E-everything okay?”

“Yeah, just checking." She drew up his shirt sleeve to see the extent of the bandage around his hand and wrist. "What happened to his wrist?"

"That was Sunday's seizure. He said it's not broken. He hasn't complained, but I think it's still pretty sore. I guess he wouldn't be wearing the bandage still otherwise."

Claire nodded. "It's probably still weak from the fracture too." She tugged Matt’s shirt sleeve back down. "Uh, so you said Daisy won’t leave his side. Will she let me look at her here?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Foggy said, sitting gently on the side of the bed and pulling Daisy onto his lap. She squirmed violently as he touched her paw.

Claire sighed. “I suppose Matt’s going to be out of it for a while.”

“Yeah, otherwise I’d get him to hold her. They have some sort of telepathic communication thing happening. I’ll have to do for now.”

Claire crouched next to Foggy and gently touched Daisy’s paw. The dog withdrew her paw with a whine. “You said she has glass in there?”

“That’s what Matt said – before he seized, that is.”

“X-ray fingers,” Claire muttered to herself. She tried to touch Daisy’s paw again, and this time Daisy wriggled out of Foggy’s grip and limped back to Matt’s side, curling into his stomach.

Claire looked at the dog and back at Foggy. “It’s one thing to take glass out of Matt, but Daisy’s a whole different thing. Why didn’t you call the vet again?”

“Uh, habit?” Foggy didn’t want to admit cost was a deciding factor, but then the guilt overwhelmed him and he added, “and vets are expensive after hours.”

Claire stood up. “I’m only cheap because I come here for free.”

Foggy stared at his feet for a moment before arguing, “but you’re good at this. And I know Matt trusts you. He’d trust you over a vet when it comes to Daisy.”

“Nice try.”

“Please?” Foggy made a snap decision and rubbed Matt’s shoulder. “Matt. Matty, wake up.”

Matt groaned and mumbled something unintelligible.

“That’s not fair, Foggy,” Claire said.

“He’d rather be woken than have Daisy in pain.”

Claire crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed.

Foggy rubbed Matt’s shoulder again. “Matt, please. I need you to hold Daisy. She’s cut her paw and we need you to hold her while Claire gets the glass out.”

Matt groaned and mumbled, “don’t want.”

“Great plan, Foggy,” Claire said, her arms still crossed.

“Could you help, Claire? Please.”

Claire rolled her eyes, but stepped forward all the same. “Matt, can you squeeze my hand?” Matt complied, but by now it was such a regular request that it could have just been a habitual response rather than a conscious one.

“Good, now, I need you to sit up.”

Matt gave an irritated groan as he turned over and buried his face in the pillow.

“Matt, it’s Claire. I need you to help me help Daisy, okay? She’s hurt.”

After a small silence, Matt rolled onto his side and croaked, “Daze- hur?”

“Yeah, not badly, but I need to get something out of her paw and we need you to help. You just need to hold her.”

Matt reached for Daisy, who was now trembling. His face fell as she withdrew her paw to his touch. With Foggy’s help, Matt struggled upright and then leaned heavily into Foggy’s side.

“Good, Matt. Just hold her and hold her paw steady. Do you think you can do that?”

Matt felt for Daisy, who limped just within reach. “Daze, come,” he murmured.

As predicted, Daisy held still for Matt, even as Claire dug around in her paw for the glass. Claire quickly found the offending shard and said to Matt, “is there any more glass in there?”

Matt put his head down, deep in concentration. “Mmm… no…don’t think so,” he said slowly.

“Good, I’ll douse it in antiseptic and bandage it. You should take her to the vet tomorrow though – she might need antibiotics or at least a check up. When did she have her last vaccinations?”

Foggy said, “wait, vaccinations? Oh, I don’t think – I didn’t know she needed vaccinations. We-we’ve never taken her to the vet. I mean, she’s never been sick.” Foggy gave Daisy an affectionate pat on the head, and the dog leaned into his hand, her eyes narrowed in happiness.

Claire’s sigh said more than words.

Foggy looked sheepish. “I’ll make sure she gets to the vet. Er, what about stitches?”

“They’d be more of an irritant than a help. It’s not a big cut. The priority was getting the glass out.”

Matt pulled Daisy to his chest and gave her a tight hug. She gave him a lick on the chin then wriggled out of his grip.

“Thanks, ‘laire,” Matt said, his eyes still closed. As Claire wrapped a bandage around Daisy’s paw, Matt’s head lolled sideways onto Foggy’s shoulder until he was obviously asleep. Once the bandage was in place, Foggy gently extracted himself from beneath Matt’s heavy form and lowered him to the bed. Daisy resumed her position next to Matt’s stomach and Claire and Foggy wandered into the living room.

“Do you want some tea?” Foggy said.

“No, I’ve got to go. I’ve got someone waiting for me.”

“Yeah, of course,” Foggy said, moving towards the door.

“Just one thing though – um, it’s about Danny.”

“Yeah?”

Claire said in a low voice, “he says he’s teaming up with Matt. I heard about the escape from the hospital, and now Danny’s guarding some criminal in old garage… is that – is Matt really teaming up?

Foggy chuckled. “If you ask Matt, he’d say no. If you ask Danny, he’d say yes…. I’d say the truth is somewhere in between.”

“In between,” Claire said, pulling a face. “How does that work?”

“I have no idea. I’ll let you know when I know more,” Foggy said. “Thanks, Claire.”

Claire just raised her eyebrows and started down the stairs. “Thank me by taking Daisy to the vet tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder.


	14. A dead end

The following morning, Foggy reluctantly woke the still dopey Matt. “Hey, Matty.”

Matt gave a grunt that clearly said,  _I he_ _ar you, but please go away now_.

“Matt, I know you probably feel like shit and want to keep sleeping, but I have to remind you about last night.” He continued quickly while he had Matt’s attention. “Daisy needs to go to the vet to get her paw looked at.” 

Matt rolled over and mumbled, “Daisy?”

“She cut her paw. She’s okay. Claire got the glass out, but she needs to get it checked by a vet. She might need antibiotics or something. I can take her, but I thought you might want to come too.”

“Yes, yes of course,” Matt said, struggling upright and searching for the dog.

“Also, we have that appointment to see Fisk this afternoon. If you’re too tired, I can go alone or we can try and reschedule-”

“No, I’ll come,” Matt said quickly just as Daisy burrowed out from beneath a pile of blanket. He put a gentle hand on Daisy’s back and brushed the back of his hand down her leg to the bandage Claire had wrapped around Daisy’s paw. “How-how-”

“It wasn’t your fault, Matt,” Foggy started, which was exactly the wrong thing to say to Matt. He was predictably distressed when he found out what happened. He refused to put Daisy down for the next half hour, going so far as to nurse her at the kitchen table while he had a morning coffee and searched for a nearby vet online. Eventually, Foggy pointed out that she had three other legs and would probably benefit from a visit outside to pee. Matt rushed upstairs with her under one arm so that Daisy could relieve herself on the rooftop doggy grass patch.

Foggy wasn’t happy about letting Matt take Daisy to the vet alone in his tired state, but they had back-to-back client meetings that morning and at least one of them needed to be at the office. Fortunately, Candy was working in the office that day and ended up sitting in on the meetings in Matt's place.

When Matt returned from the vet, Daisy under one arm, he was immediately swamped by Candy and Karen who cooed over Daisy. The dog squirmed, sick of being carried.

“You have a meeting with Harvey Savage in ten minutes, Matt,” Karen said as Matt struggle to keep a grip on the wriggling dog. “Do you want me to take Daisy?”

Matt shook his head, and carried her to his office, placing Daisy in her basket with the utmost care. Daisy immediately jumped out, giving a vigorous shake in protest. She limped over to Candy on three legs, trying and failing to jump up to say hi. 

“Daisy, no,” Matt ordered, chasing after the dog. “Daisy, you need to lie down.” 

Candy laughed and picked up the wagging dog. “Matt, she’s fine. She has three other legs. You just have to make sure she doesn’t chew through the bandage.”

“She had glass in her paw. She’s been through a trauma,” Matt replied.

“But she’ll survive,” Foggy said, emerging from his office. “How did it go?”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, good. Yeah. She got vaccinated for all sorts of stuff. I didn’t know – I didn’t…” He petered off, the guilt washing over him.

“If only they came with a manual, huh” Candy said. “We used to give our dog grapes all the time until we read just recently that grapes are poisonous for dogs.”

“What happened?” Matt whispered, his eyes wide.

“Nothing, he’s fine,” Candy said. “But we’re not going to give him grapes anymore.”

“Grapes,” Foggy repeated in disbelief.

Karen cleared her throat. “Uh, guys, your eleven o’clock is due any moment.”

“Oh, yeah, um, Candy, do you want to continue with Foggy on this one. I-I have something I need to do,” Matt said, grabbing Daisy from Candy’s arms and disappearing into his office.

When Karen knocked on Matt’s door ten minutes later, she was greeted with “did you know that dogs shouldn’t eat dried pasta or coffee?”

“Matt, have you  _ever_ thought about giving Daisy coffee?”

“No.”

“Well there you go,” Karen replied. “She’s safe.” Her mouth twitched at the sight of Daisy sitting on Matt’s lap, her head just poking up above the desk. “Uh, Matt, I wanted to talk to you about those lists.”

Matt stopped what he was doing and sat up straight. “Did you find anything?”

“Yeah,” Karen whispered. She placed a braille document in front of him, and he quickly skimmed it. As he got to the bottom of the list, she said, “you were right - the overlap between Fisk’s associates and the victims is too close to be an accident.”

Matt balled his left hand into a fist. “I knew it. It’s gotta be Fisk.”

“That’s the obvious answer, yes. But how’s he doing it?”

Matt shook his head. “I don’t know. Uh, you said  _obvious_  answer – does that mean-”

Karen leaned in and said in a whisper, “I mean maybe it’s just designed to look obvious. What if Fisk is being set up?”

“By whom?”

“Well that’s the question. Do you know anyone?”

Matt thought for a moment. “I just don’t know what’s to be gained by framing Fisk for a series of druggings. He’s already in jail, and he will be for a long time.” Matt combed his fingers through Daisy’s hair. “I’ll ask him this afternoon.”

“This afternoon? What’s happening this afternoon?”

“Oh, we didn’t tell you. We’re going to visit Fisk.”

“What?! When – why?”

“We only arranged it yesterday, and you were off doing, um-”

“Compiling this list for you,” Karen said pointedly.

“Yeah,” Matt said, giving her what he hoped was a distracting smile.

“I want to come.”

“No, that’s impossible, Karen,” Matt said quickly.

Karen crossed her arms. “Why, because I’m a woman?”

“No,” Matt spluttered. “Of course not. We-we only got permission for the two of us.”

“So Foggy’s in on it?”

Matt rubbed his forehead. “Karen, there’s no  _in on it_. It’s – it’s just – please leave it. We’ll give you an overview when we return.” He gave Daisy’s ears a rub. “We need someone to look after Daisy and she loves you the best.” Matt gave her a small, hopeful smile.

“Great, the woman has to dogsit,” Karen muttered.

Matt exhaled through pursed lips. He decided to switch subject. “Kare, can- can you help me find the form for parking violation disputes?”

Karen did a double take at the change of topic. “Uh, sure. Is this for Mrs Lopez? I’ve already filled it out. I just need her signature.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Matt said. “What would I do without you?”

“You’re not going to get out of this with flattery, Murdock. Next time, I’m coming with you. I don’t want to be sidelined.”

Matt sighed. Between Foggy’s insistence on being his night time wingman, and Karen’s whatever-this-was, he was feeling a little suffocated. Things were much easier when Daredevil was a lone vigilante and he didn’t have to consult with someone at every turn. But to sate Karen, Matt gave a small nod. It seemed to satisfy her because she turned on her heels and left the office.

After the morning’s drama, the effects of the previous night’s seizure started to catch up on Matt and he fell asleep at his desk. Daisy was still curled up in his lap.

“It just keeps getting cuter,” Karen said to Foggy.

Foggy raised his eyebrows. “ _Cute_ isn’t the word I’d use. Ergh, I’m going to have to wake him up. We have to be at Rikers in an hour.”

“I could come instead,” Karen said, glancing sideways.

“Matt would kill me if I went without him. No, I’ll give him another ten minutes and then wake him up.”

“Seriously, Foggy. I don’t think he’d mind.”

Foggy turned and looked at Karen through narrowed eyes. “You’ve talked about this with Matt already, haven’t you?”

Karen crossed her arms and stared at him in defiance. “Yeah, so?”

“I’m going to wake him,” Foggy said, starting towards the door.

“Foggy, wait,” Karen said, pulling him back. She whispered, “yeah, I talked to him. He didn’t want me to go,” she paused, considering her next words, “but Foggy, I don’t like being sidelined like this. I’m part of this – as much a part as you two.”

“What did Matt say?”

Karen chewed her lip, hesitated then said, “you’d give me an overview when you return.”

“Exactly. We can even give you a  _detailed_ overview if you’d like. Besides, Candy needs the company and the help.”

Karen rolled her eyes and returned to her desk.

Foggy sighed and focused on the task of waking Matt instead. At times, the office felt like a battleground of competing personalities.

* * *

 

As Matt and Foggy were entering the secure part of the prison, Foggy stopped dead and tugged at Matt's sleeve. "That assistant DA you were talking to-"

"Kirsten McDuffie," Matt supplied.

"Yeah, she's here."

Matt tilted his head, listening to the discussion between Kirsten and the security staff.

"Matt, you can't do that," Foggy hissed. "You of all people know how important confidentiality is in this place."

"She's talking about recent breaches in security," Matt whispered back.

"That's not new," Foggy muttered.

"Yeah, but these are sophisticated ones. Cameras are switched off, recordings just disappear without a trace."

Foggy raised his eyebrows. "Let's talk about this later. We have an appointment to keep." Foggy started towards the security x-ray machine. "You coming, Matt?"

Matt was standing still with his head tipped down, deep in concentration.

"Matt," Foggy hissed.

Matt started. "Yeah, sorry, Fog." He caught up to Foggy and took his arm.

As they passed through the x-ray machine, Kirsten spotted them. "The Hell's Kitchen attorney duo," she said. "It's Kirsten, we met the other day," she added for Matt's benefit.

Matt smiled. "I recognise your voice."

"Oh," Kirsten said, looking surprised but flattered at the same time. "Who are you here to see? I thought you only defended the innocent."

The two men remained silent for a moment, both trying to work out whether it was wise to reveal the reason for their visit. Eventually Matt said, "Fisk. Wilson Fisk."

Kirsten stared. "I didn't realise-"

They were interrupted by a booming voice behind them. "Mr Murdock, Mr Nelson."

"Mr Donovan," Matt replied with a nod. 

"Sorry for keeping you waiting. I'll need to talk to you for a few moments before we proceed."

Kirsten watched the exchange with interest. Benjamin Donovan - Fisk’s lawyer - completely ignored her, turning his back on her as he ushered Matt and Foggy into an adjacent room.

Mr Donovan shut the door behind them. "We can never be too sure." He pulled a couple of pieces of paper from a leather-bound folder, handing Foggy and printed agreement, and Matt a braille version. "Mr Fisk insisted I cater to your particular disability, Mr Murdock. He's a very considerate man." Matt turned the paper up the right way before scanning the contract at speed. 

“You will refer to Mr Fisk only as Mr Fisk and you will not ask any questions until I personally approve of them first. You will not discuss this meeting or its content with anyone. He doesn't have to do this, Mr Murdock and Mr Nelson, just remember that." He gave them a broad smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

“That’s a lot of rules,” Matt said.

“Rules are what separate us from the animals, Mr Murdock.”

Matt pulled out a pen and signed the contract before handing Foggy the pen. Foggy hesitated, worried about the details of the agreement. "Do you have a problem, Mr Nelson?"

"Uh, no, it's fine," Foggy said, scribbling his name at the bottom of the paper and handing the contract to Mr Donovan.

"Follow me," Mr Donovan instructed.

They walked through the labyrinthine corridors in silence. Matt could hear Foggy's heartbeat quicken as they wandered further and further away from the visiting area.

As they passed through a set of heavy double doors, one of the guards said, "Dakoda one" into his radio. Matt heard the reply, "copy. Enacted." The cryptic exchange sent a shiver down Matt's spine, and he increased the grip on Foggy's arm.

Matt eventually caught the heavy breathing that could only be Fisk's. As they passed through the door, Mr Donovan said, "mind the cane."

Foggy replied, "he's allowed the cane under ADA rules."

"Foggy, it's fine," Matt said, handing over the cane, which was then passed to a waiting guard. Matt kept a hold of Foggy's arm as they entered the room.

"Five minutes," Mr Donovan said, closing the door. He stood behind the Foggy and Matt, just out of range of Foggy’s peripheral vision. It was unnerving.

"Mr Murdock, Mr Nelson," Fisk said.

"Mr Fisk," Matt replied with a nod.

Staring straight at Foggy, Fisk sat back in his chair and said, "for what do I owe the pleasure?"

Foggy opened his mouth, but Matt beat him to it. "We want to know about your involvement in the druggings that have occurred of late."

“You don’t have to answer that, Mr Fisk,” Mr Donovan interrupted.

Fisk smirked. "It’s fine, Mr Donovan.” He turned back to Matt. “Mr Murdock, I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"Impossible," Foggy said. "Dozens of your old associates have been jailed thanks to the drug’s psychosis-inducing effects."

Fisk leaned back in his seat and waited.

Matt said, "how are you doing it? Who are your contacts on the outside?"

"I told you, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"But you do," Matt insisted more forcefully. "You know exactly what we're talking about. What is your involvement?"

"I have no involvement. Ask the guards, ask my fellow inmates. I do not have that kind of reach in here."

Matt listened intently to Fisk's heartbeat. His heartbeat revealed the lie of his earlier statement. He had heard about the druggings, there was no doubt. But this last statement was different. Either he was a master of concealment or he really was telling the truth: he really wasn't involved in the druggings.

Matt decided to try a different tack. "But you have some guards working for you. That guard who turned off the security cameras as soon as we walked in, for instance."

Fisk raised his eyebrows. "I'm afraid this meeting has come to an end." He called out, “Mr Donovan, escort these two men out of here please."

"Vanessa," Matt said, leaning forward.

"Wait," Fisk said to Mr Donovan. "Leave us."

Mr Donovan approached the table. “Mr Fisk, I highly recommend-”

“Leave us,” Mr Fisk repeated, more forcefully this time. Mr Donovan looked between Matt and Foggy and then back at Fisk before silently leaving the room.

Fisk lowered his voice. "What about Vanessa?"

Matt paused, listening to the change in Fisk’s heartbeat. Eventually he said, "Vanessa - she was involved in your criminal activity. Maybe she still is. What's her involvement in your continued criminal enterprise, Mr Fisk?"

"Leave Vanessa out of this," Fisk growled.

"Ah, but you see I can't. And I have more than enough evidence to put her away."

Foggy put his hand on Matt's knee and whispered, "Matt, don't." Matt shook Foggy's hand away.

"A quick call to the DA’s office is all it takes,” Matt said, clicking his fingers. “You see, I think she's involved in this somehow. And when I find out-"

Matt's threat was interrupted by a roar of rage from Fisk. He pulled his wrists out of unlocked handcuffs, and leaned across the table. Before either Matt or Foggy could react, Fisk slammed Matt's head hard against the table. 

Foggy screamed, "no, get off him. Help!" He tried to pull Fisk's arms away, but Fisk hit Foggy in the nose before smashing Matt's head against the table again. Foggy yelled, "help, guards," but it seemed like Matt was right about the guards being in his pocket. No one came, no one saw, no one cared. Foggy wrapped his body around Matt's head, protecting him from another injury. For some reason - and Foggy had no idea why – Matt wasn't fighting back.

Fisk stood back and brushed his hands against his sleeves as if wiping germs off his skin. With a grunt, he walked out of the room, leaving Foggy huddled around Matt. "Are you okay, Matt?" Foggy whispered. 

Matt wiped his bleeding nose with his sleeve and croaked, "yeah, fine."

"Here, Matt. I have a tissue," Foggy said, rummaging in his pocket. A drop of blood landed on his hand and he realised that his nose was bleeding too. "Ergh," he moaned.

Matt suddenly cottoned onto the fact that Foggy was injured too. "Foggy – what happened. A-are you okay?"

"Yeah, but we have matching noses now," Foggy replied, his voice muffled by the tissue. “Why didn’t you fight back?”

“I-I-I don’t know what happened,” Matt said weakly. “I-I'm sorry, Fog. I shouldn't have put you in danger like that."

"It wasn't wise to goad him like that, but you weren't to know that the handcuffs were unlocked," Foggy said. He hesitated, "did you know they were unlocked?"

Matt shook his head. "My concentration was elsewhere." He swallowed. "Let's get out of here. It's not safe." He stood up and stumbled slightly, his head still spinning.

"Take my arm. We're going to the hospital."

"No, Foggy, we can't."

"We can and we will. Your head just got slammed against a hard surface.  _Twice_. You need to be checked for another brain injury. You're lucky your glasses didn't smash and cut you again."

"Foggy, shhh..." Matt hissed as Fisk's lawyer entered the room.

"Your cane, Mr Murdock," the lawyer said as if nothing was out of the ordinary, nudging the cane against Matt's outstretched shaking hand. Matt snatched the cane with a thunderous expression on his face.

As they were exiting the prison, they heard a rush of footsteps behind them. "Matt," Kirsten called. 

Matt stopped but didn't turn around. Foggy pocketed his blood-soaked tissue as he turned to face Kirsten, but the nosebleed wasn't done yet and a couple of drips ran down his upper lip. He swore under his breath and retrieved the sopping tissue from his pocket.

"What happened?" Kirsten said, but Foggy just shook his head.

She walked around to face Matt, whose bleeding nose had stopped, but the crust of blood on his upper lip remained. His nose and forehead were red and swollen, and he bit his lip as he felt her critical gaze.

"Seriously, you two, what happened?"

Matt stood up straight. "I'm afraid we can't discuss it.”

"Who did this?"

Matt replied stiffly, "I'm sorry, Kirsten, you know as well as I do that we can't discuss-"

"But he's not your client. Or was it someone else?"

Foggy gave her a pleading look.

Matt moved a little closer to Foggy and said, "Goodbye, Kirsten." He gave her a brief nod before moving away, tugging Foggy to move faster.

"We can't tell anyone," Matt whispered. "You know what we signed."

"Yeah, but it didn't include anything about being beaten up. We can easily argue assault lies outside a confidentiality agreement."

"I don’t want to get anyone else involved in this, Foggy. Not yet. It’s disappointing that we’ve hit a dead-end, but at least we have proof that Fisk's running the joint."

"No shit. Which means it wouldn't be hard to arrange the druggings."

"I – I really don't think he did it," Matt said. "But not here. We'll discuss it later. I need to find an icepack." 

Foggy sniffed and turned over the tissue, trying to find a corner that wasn't saturated. "And I need a fresh tissue."

Once they were safely in the back of the cab, Matt added, "and maybe the couch. Last night's seizure has me beat."

"I bet. Are you sure you won't go to the hospital?"

"Very."

* * *

 

"You have to go to the police," Karen said when she heard what happened.

Matt groaned from his horizontal position on his office couch. "And say what, Karen? That Fisk runs the prison? That the guards turned off the surveillance system on his order? That they just ignored the fact that we were assaulted by Fisk?"

Karen crossed her arms. "Okay, well what about Brett?"

Foggy looked at Matt over his icepack. "We should probably warn Brett. He can keep an eye out. He needs to know Fisk is flexing his muscle on the inside."

Matt removed the icepack from his forehead with a sigh. "Okay, we'll tell Brett. You're right. He should be warned at least. But-" he stopped and put on his glasses. "But we need to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid or put himself in danger."

"You should take your own advice," Foggy muttered.

"I'm not going to apologise again, Foggy. It's done and we know more than we did this morning."

"We still don't know who's behind the druggings. If Fisk isn't, who is?"

"I have a lead," Matt said, grunting as he sat up. He could feel his forehead pulsing with angry heat. He closed his eyes to gather himself.

Foggy said, “you're not going out tonight, Matt. Not with a probable concussion, you're not.”

Matt shook his head. "I can't anyway. Melvin's trial is tomorrow. I have some last-minute things to catch up on." He stood up. "I'll meet you at home." He scooped up Daisy and left before Karen and Foggy could interrogate him about his intentions.


	15. Returns

Matt wandered into the bathroom just as Foggy was shaving the last of his morning whiskers.

“Ow,” Foggy yelped.

Matt took a step back. “What happened?”

“Bumped my nose. Facial injuries and shaving don't mix,” Foggy said. “Seriously, is that why you don’t shave half the time?”

Matt chuckled. “Uh, it may be a contributing factor.” He lightly touched lump on his own forehead. It had improved overnight, but it still felt a little hot. “H-how does it look?"

"Your nose or mine?"

"Uh, both?" Matt's mouth twitched.

"Matching injuries is not a laughing matter, Matt," Foggy said, but there was an edge of amusement in his voice too. "The swelling is down – for both of us. But there's a definite purple tinge to your forehead and the bridge of your nose." Foggy touched his nose experimentally. "Ouch. I shouldn't have done that." He sighed. "Maybe we should steal some of Karen's make up. Have you ever thought of doing that?"

"Even if I wanted to, I'd have no idea how to use it," Matt laughed. "It'll be fine. We just need to concentrate on Melvin's case."

 

Matt and Foggy turned up to the courthouse to find Melvin hunched in the corner of a hard bench, barely talking. He was accompanied by Betsy, his social worker and confidant. Despite Melvin's claims that it wasn't safe and his obvious anxiety about her presence, Betsy came anyway for moral support.

"It'll be okay, Melvin," she said softly, putting her hand on his arm. "Just remember to stay calm and polite. Remember your breathing exercises." Melvin shook out his hands and took a deep breath. "Good," she said. "Good work."

Matt checked his phone. Still no response from Danny. Unwilling to trust the police after yesterday's incident, Matt had made a last-minute arrangement for Danny to accompany Angelo Pellegrini to the courthouse. They'd agreed to meet at 8am. It was now half past eight, and Danny wasn't responding to Matt's calls or texts.

"Matt, it'll be okay," Foggy said, watching Matt's knuckles grow increasingly white around his cane.

"There's something wrong, Foggy, I can feel it."

Foggy sighed in frustration. "Is that another one of your special gifts?"

Matt gave Foggy a withering expression.

As they waited to be called into the courtroom, Matt caught a mention of Pellegrini from an adjacent room. He sat up straight, focussing all his attention on the anonymous source. Foggy touched his shoulder and Matt jumped.

"Sorry," Foggy whispered. "I just wanted to see if you want a glass of water."

Matt put up his hand in an attempt to quiet Foggy, but was immediately interrupted by his phone: "Danny... Danny.... Danny... Danny...."

Matt whipped out his cell. "Danny, what's going on?"

Danny said, "uh, Matt, I'm sorry, but Pellegrini's nowhere to be found."

"What do you mean?" Matt whispered.

"I mean, he's not at home, he's not answering his phone-"

"He doesn't have a phone. I told him to get rid of it."

"Uh, he has a phone, Matt. He plays Sugar Smash Pro every night with the music up high. I’m surprised you can’t hear it from your apartment."

"Shit," Matt muttered to himself. "Are you at his place now?"

"Yeah, there's no sign of a fight. Nothing."

"Wait there. I'll be there as soon as possible."

Matt leaned into Foggy and whispered, "I have to do something. Uh, hold them up. I'll try and be as quick as possible, but I have to find Pellegrini."

"What happened?"

"He's disappeared. I don't know where or why or how, but I can't let this happen." Matt bounced on his toes, rearing to go.

"Matt," Foggy said sharply.

"What?"

"Good luck. Go do what you’ve gotta do."

Matt exhaled in relief. He thought an argument was inevitable.

With Foggy’s blessing, Matt raced down the hallway, cane sweeping fast in front of him. As he got to the security gates, he heard Melvin stutter, "where's Matt going? Where – why – what's wrong?" Matt forced his attention away from the increasingly panicky questions. He had one task right now. One.

 

* * *

 

Danny was waiting for Matt on the warehouse roof. He yelped as a red-horned figure seemed to appear out of nowhere. "M-Matt?"

"Not Matt. I'm Daredevil," Matt growled.

"Matt, why are you dressed-"

"Not, Matt. _Daredevil_ ," Matt repeated, jumping off the edge and threading himself through the window and into Pellegrini’s hideout.

Danny quickly followed. "What's with the costume?"

"It's a symbol," Matt said, his head down. He walked slowly around the room, trying to pick up any kind of clue as to Pellegrini's disappearance.

"But you-"

"Shhh..." Matt stopped near the sink. "Menthol. Pellegrini never smoked menthol cigarettes, did he?"

"No, not that I know of," Danny replied.

"Menthol, expensive cologne," Matt whispered to himself before saying to Danny, "go to the courthouse. Tell Foggy, uh, tell Foggy I'm on a trail."

"Nah, man, I'm coming."

Matt clenched his fists, but instead of arguing, he jumped out the top window, swinging onto the edge of a rusty ladder and jumping lightly to the ground. He took off at a run, ducking into an alleyway before Danny was even out the window. Matt might have been the better fighter, but Danny was fast. He sprinted after Matt, catching a glimpse of red jumping onto the top of a dumpster and then onto a roof. "Matt, let me help," Danny said as he too scrambled onto the roof. “I know you can hear me. You don’t have to do this alone, _Daredevil!_ ”

Despite Matt's attempts at getting fit, he was still not at his peak thanks to all the days spent recovering from seizures. He soon started to slow, and Danny caught up easily, pulling alongside him as Matt hesitated at the edge of a roof.

"Ma-Daredevil, I'm sorry," Danny puffed. "I didn't mean to lose him."

Matt shook his head. "I know." He poked at his mask. His nose was still swollen from Fisk's assault, and it pressed uncomfortably against the mask. His suit was the opposite. He'd gained a lot of muscle over the last couple of months, but he was a shadow of his former self and the suit hung loosely around his skinnier frame. He felt strong in the suit though. It was as if it were imbued with some kind of spirit – a strength that couldn’t be explained.

Danny stared at Matt, taking in the suit and the horns. "Where are we going?"

"Down there," Matt replied, pointing at the Hope and Anchor - the bar he and Foggy had surveilled a week earlier. "Wait here. This is Daredevil's job." Matt extended his billy club and swung off the roof, smashing feet first through the front doors of the bar.

Despite the hour, the bar had a couple of dozen people in it, all of whom fell silent at the sudden and unconventional entrance. Matt smiled. "Who wants to tell me what happened to Angelo Pellegrini?"

There was a deadly silence.

"You know, it'll be much more comfortable to tell me _before_ I beat it out of you," Matt said, casually wandering into the centre of the bar. There was a wave of movement as half a dozen patrons flew at Matt. With a roar, he threw them back, punching and kicking so that all assailants were flat on their back within a minute.

"What happened to Angelo Pellegrini?" Matt asked again.

A dozen more men attacked at once, and Matt easily beat them off until only a few men were still standing.

"What happened to Angelo Pellegrini," Matt said slowly, over-enunciating each word. One of the men fled through the front door, and another got within a few feet of the door before Matt kicked him away, sending him flying under a side table.

Matt paused, listening to the groans of the few conscious men littered around the room. He turned to a figure edging away along the bar. "Turk," he said, grabbing the notorious criminal by the neck and throwing him against the wall. "What happened to Pellegrini?"

"Oh hey, Double D. Long time no see,” Turk replied, attempting and failing to keep his tone light and casual.

Matt gave him a shove.

Turk spluttered, "come on, man, why'r you picking on me?”

Matt smiled. “Because you know I always get my way.”

“But I-I don’t know – I don’t know the guy.”

Matt feinted a punch to Turk's face and he let out a squawk. "Okay, okay," Turk spluttered. "I-I might know something. But you didn't hear it from me."

Matt huffed in amusement. "That's not my concern."

"I-I hear he's being held down at the new construction near 10th and 41st."

"Who took him?"

"I-I don't know his name. New player though. Pays good."

Matt threw Turk on the ground and ran out the front door, waving at the waiting Danny as he passed. Danny grinned at the invitation and followed Matt. They weaved through the back alleys so as to avoid attention, but everyone they passed immediately recognised Daredevil’s iconic costume, and Matt heard the affectionate calls of “hey Daredevil” as he ran. It felt good to be back.

Matt didn’t slow until he got to the construction site. He knew what he was going to find before he even smelled the fresh blood, the concrete dust, the waft of menthol cigarettes. Matt bend over, wheezing from the run, his body suddenly running out of the fuel of adrenaline. He could sense the fresh cigarette-shaped burn on Pellegrini's forehead, and the spent butt lying in the dust beside him, still slightly warm. It seemed absurd to think that a killer would leave such an obvious trail. Matt crouched next to the cigarette, trying to work out what he was missing, and more specifically, what the killer was trying to communicate.

Danny shifted on the spot. "W-what now?"

Matt shot to his feet. “We run. The police are coming.”


	16. Chapter 16

After briefly returning home to change back into his ‘lawyer suit’ (as Danny termed it), a frazzled Matt returned to the courthouse, his hair matted with sweat and his tie crooked around his neck. News had already broken about Pellegrini's murder, and being a key witness to Melvin's defence, Foggy had successfully argued for an emergency postponement.

"There’s a picture of Daredevil running through Hell's Kitchen in the middle of the day… as in the guy in the red horns," Foggy whispered to Matt as soon as he sat down.

"Seems he's not nocturnal after all," Matt whispered back.

“That’s not-” Foggy paused then sighed. The questions about Matt’s horned costume could come later. He studied Matt carefully, looking for any hint of injury. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Matt said. "Disappointed, that's all." He licked his dry lips. "Hey, do you still have that water?"

Foggy handed him a bottle. Matt chugged it down before unceremoniously wiping his mouth with the back of the now dirtied and sweaty bandage on his wrist.

"Classy," Foggy muttered.

Matt shrugged and changed the subject. "How's Melvin?"

"I sent him home as soon as I got the postponement. He was having a meltdown. I told him you'd call though."

Matt nodded and drew out his phone.

"Not now," Foggy said, his hand on Matt's. "Tell me what happened first. We're done here. Let's return to the office. You need to tell me everything."

“Shit,” Matt said under his breath.

Foggy leaned into Matt, expecting to learn about a hidden injury. “What?”

“Our friendly ADA is approaching.”

“What-” Foggy looked up to see Kirsten walking towards them. “This seems to frequent to be accidental,” Foggy said in a low voice.

Matt shrugged. “Court and jail are pretty predictable places for defense lawyers and ADAs to cross paths. I wouldn’t get too paranoid.” He pulled down his shirt sleeves in an attempt to look more presentable, sitting up straight as her footsteps neared.

“Your noses are looking less bloody this morning,” Kirsten said in lieu of a greeting.

“Kirsten,” Matt said with a nod.

“Although you’re not looking too well, Matt," she said, taking in his unusually scruffy appearance. "Are you okay?”

Matt ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. “Yeah, just tired.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your client - this whole Pellegrini mess,” she said. “Do you know what happened?”

Matt shook his head. “Not yet.”

“But we’re going to find out now,” Foggy said, getting to his feet. When Matt didn’t respond, Foggy added pointedly, “ _aren’t we, Matt_?”

“Y-yeah,” Matt said, standing up and hurriedly shaking out his cane. “Um, have a good morning, Kirsten.”

“You too,” Kirsten said quietly as Matt and Foggy turned their backs and quickly walked away, arm in arm. “Strange,” she murmured to herself.

* * *

 

  
Once they’d sat down with a cup of coffee at the office, Matt gave Foggy and Karen an overview of the morning’s events. When he finished describing what happened at the Hope and Anchor, Foggy exclaimed, “You took down two dozen men on your own?”

Matt nodded. He was starting to think perhaps he shouldn't have told Foggy some of the details.

"But Matt, what if you'd had a seizure, or someone had pulled off your mask?"

Matt shrugged. "I didn't; they didn't," he replied. “To be fair, some of them were pretty drunk.” He shrugged again and picked at the bandage around his wrist.

"You probably need to replace that," Foggy said. "It was beige, and now it's more like grey."

Matt rolled his eyes, but obediently unwrapped the bandage from around his wrist and dumped it in the trash, wrinkling his nose at the smell of stale sweat.

"Gross," Foggy said, theatrically shifting his chair backwards. “For someone with heightened senses, I’m surprised you kept it that long.”

“Well, I got pretty good at blocking out smells when I shared a dorm room with you,” Matt returned.

Karen cleared her throat. "Matt, there's a fresh one around here somewhere," she said, digging through their now massive office first aid kit. She unwrapped the plastic and handed him the roll.

"Thanks, but I probably need a shower first," Matt pointed out. He rolled his wrist experimentally and winced. "Damn. It was just getting better too."

Foggy and Karen exchanged a look. They were getting used to Matt being Daredevil – mostly – but some of his comments just seemed so blasé that they verged on absurdity.

Daisy limped over to Matt and scratched on his pants, wanting to be picked up.

"She sooked all morning for you," Karen said.

"Her paw," Matt deduced.

Foggy said, "actually, I think she probably knew you were out beating up criminals without her. The telepathic connection you two have-"

Matt rolled his eyes. "Her paw. Look for the simplest explanation, Foggy."

"So, what's the simplest explanation for Pellegrini's murder?" Karen said, bringing the conversation back to the issue at hand.

"He knew about the druggings and whoever's responsible doesn't want the truth to out," Foggy replied.

"Or someone wants Melvin in prison. Pellegrini was an important part of our defense strategy after all," Matt said.

"And, or," Karen added. "It's probably a mixture of all three."

"What's the third?"

"The Fisk set-up."

Foggy screwed up his face. "I don't think that's a thing."

Karen shrugged. "Don't rule it out yet."

Matt rolled his shoulders then wrinkled his nose. "Sorry, guys, I smell. I'm going to head home for a shower and a fresh change of clothes."

"No more assaulting criminals until after dark though please," Foggy joked.

"Ha ha," Matt replied with a withering expression. "In all honesty, I don't think my wrist would cope."

"Those horns," Foggy muttered, shaking his head. Karen snorted, quickly smothering her laugh with her cardigan sleeve.

“It’s a symbol, Foggy,” Matt snapped. “Just – just stop with the judgement. Sometimes you need more than fists.”

Foggy huffed at the irony of Matt’s statement, but decided to let it go. He watched in silence as Matt gathered up his things and slowly made his way to the door.

* * *

  
Five minutes after Matt left, Danny turned up at the office. "Hey Foggy, hey Karen," he said brightly. "Have you seen Matt?"

“You just missed him. He’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Oh,” Danny said, his face falling.

“A-are you okay?”

Danny scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, I think so. It’s just intense, y’know…dead body.”

“You found Pellegrini’s body?”

“Well, Matt found him. I was with him though – b-but he did most of the work.”

“What do you mean?”

“He managed to beat an entire bar’s worth of criminals. He got someone to tell him where Pellegrini was, and then he – he just ran there. All I did was follow.”

“The police are keeping quiet until they know more – or so they say,” Karen said. “What did you see?”

Danny scratched his forehead. “Nothing much. Construction site, body, oh, and the cigarette… Matt got really intense about the cigarette butt.”

“He didn’t mention a cigarette butt,” Foggy said, shifting forward on his chair. “Where was it?”

“Um, can I have some water,” Danny asked, eyeing off the kitchenette.

“Yeah.” Karen jumped up and fixed him a glass. “Danny, are you really okay?”

Danny took the glass, drank it in one breath and then edged towards the door. “Uh, I might head off. I-I’ll see you round.”

Foggy called after Danny, “Danny, can we help?” But he’d already rushed out the door.

“Shit,” Foggy said, spinning around to face Karen. “Do you think Matt was actually going home to shower?”

“Don’t you have an app?”

“Yeah, but I promised him…” Foggy petered off, not wanting to go into the whole fight between him and Matt.

“Promised him what?”

“That I’d only use it when he authorised it.” He shook his phone. “Not now, for instance.”

“I guess we just wait then,” Karen said, returning to her desk. She pulled out a large file, sighed then switched it for a smaller one.

Foggy smiled. “It’s that kind of day, huh.”

* * *

  
Matt returned within the hour as promised, his arms laden with sandwiches and cake. "I thought we could do with a sweet treat," he announced as he kicked the door closed behind him. He stopped just inside the door. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Karen said, jumping up to help with the food.

“Danny called in,” Foggy yelled from his office. “He seems a bit shaken up, Matt. Maybe you should talk to him. After all, you’re the one who asked him to accompany Pellegrini to court this morning.”

Matt rubbed the side of his chin. “Shit, I didn’t think… Um, I’ll call Melvin first, then Danny.” He nodded and retreated into his office, shutting his door.

When he emerged a few hours later, Matt was in a stormy mood. The feelings of rage that had subsided on his return to the courthouse had suddenly returned with force. He snapped at Karen when she suggested he work on something lighter than their case involving a trafficked sex worker, and Foggy got his head bitten off when he suggested Matt switch to caffeine-free tea.

As they were packing up, Foggy said, "so, I was thinking a visit to Josie's is in order. It's been a day deserving of a knock-off... or three."

"Oh God, yes please," Karen said, quickly grabbing her bag.

Matt shook his head. “I’m going to Fogwell’s.” He swung his backpack of gym gear over his shoulders. "Uh, Fog, can you take Daisy? She gets a bit physical at the gym and her paw-"

Foggy replied, “do you really want to take the risk? Please, Matt, take Daisy. You know your seizure threshold lowers when you’re stressed or worked up. This is exactly the time you need her.”

Matt shook his head. “No, she needs her rest. I’ll be fine.”

Foggy bit his lip. “Okay, uh, do you want me to cook dinner for later?”

Matt waved his hand. “Up to you.” And with that, he left.

* * *

  
Matt spent a good hour and a half at the gym, taking his anger and frustration out on the poor innocent bags. He tried to be gentle with his right wrist, but his emotional needs were overwhelming his physical ones right now, and it wasn’t until after he’d finished that he realised just how much it was aching. He pulled off the boxing wraps around his hands, leaving just the bandage on his right wrist. He flexed his right hand fingers a few times, testing the movement. “Shit,” he whispered to himself as the pain bit back.

The air was crisp and damp as he left the gym. Shivering, he pulled up his hood, and buried his hands and cane in his hoodie pocket. As he passed the series of small laneways near his office, he heard a couple of men arguing about "dosages". Matt paused, his fingers gripping the folded cane. What he'd give to have Melvin's special billy club cane right now. He sighed. Maybe it was a good thing he didn't. He took a step towards home. He was tired and his wrist probably wouldn’t cope with any more hitting tonight. Plus Foggy was right – it was risky to be out without Daisy. Foggy and Karen were probably at Josie’s – perhaps he’d feel better after a social beer. He ran his fingers over his phone in his pocket as he walked, debating as to whether or not to call them.

Matt was nearly at the end of the street when he heard one of the men mention Pellegrini. Matt immediately doubled back, stalking alongside a high brick fence, confident his path was shadowed from the buzzing streetlights.

Matt quietly removed his business shirt from his backpack and tied it over his eyes before pulling his hoodie back over his head. And then he waited.

After ten minutes, the men had finished whatever argument they were having. There was no further mention of Pellegrini, but that wasn't going to stop Matt from forcing more information out of them. He launched himself at the first man, knocking him sideways before pinning the second against the wall.

"Tell me what you know about Pellegrini," Matt growled.

"Who-who's Pellegrini?"

Matt kneed the man in the stomach. "You know who he is. Now tell me what you know."

The first man struggled to his feet and launched himself at Matt, who kicked sideways, knocking him into the gutter while retaining a hold on the other man.

"Don't fuck with me," Matt said quietly, dangerously.

"Okay, okay, I know that he was murdered. That's all." The man tried to shrug but Matt punched him in the shoulder. He turned to the first man who was still on the ground. "What do you know?"

"Same – same. Murdered. Good riddance, I say," the man breathed, holding his bruised hip.

Matt screwed up his face in disgust. "You know about the druggings though," he said.

The second man tried to edge away along the wall, but Matt wasn't done yet. He spun around and punched the guy in the face so that he crumpled to the ground. Matt mouthed ‘shit’. He didn't mean to hit that hard. Matt took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He needed information and he wasn't going to get anything out of unconscious men.

Matt could sense the man on the ground getting to his feet again, and got ready to grab him. But as Matt took a swing, the man sprayed something in his face.

Matt stumbled backwards. He wiped his mouth and nose, spitting into the gutter. He gasped, "what was that?"

"You wanted to know about the druggings," the guy replied with a laugh.

"What- what is this?" Matt edged away from the man. He could sense him growing bigger, rounder. The man laughed. Fisk's laugh.

"No-no-no," Matt stuttered. "No, it can't-"

Matt doubled over and pinched the bruised bridge of his nose, deliberately causing enough pain to hopefully jolt him back to reality. He felt the sleeve of his makeshift mask brush against the back of his neck. He clawed at his neck, trying to get the creature off. A snake. Erinyes. Elektra. Matt yelled in shock and fell into the brick wall, ricocheting sideways. The snake was gone, but Fisk was laughing louder and louder so that the wall shuddered. Mortar rained down on his hand and puffs of dust tickled his nose. He coughed and the wall fell away completely.

Without a second thought, Matt sprinted down the alleyway. He ran into the middle of the road, dodging cars. As he entered the opposite street, Fisk appeared before him. "How-how – you were down... no you're not," Matt said, trying desperately to keep a grip on reality. He heard a sword being drawn from behind. Matt bunched his fists and readied himself. He ducked the first swipe, and then escaped a second attempt by jumping onto a dumpster.

Trembling, he crouched on the lid. One, two, three, four, he counted. More and more criminals filling the street. "No," he whispered to himself, "no, it's not real...it’s not…I can’t…"

Matt jumped off the dumpster, aiming a kick at one of the criminals, but he missed. He never missed. Another came towards him, but he missed that target too. He decided to make a run for it, barrelling down the street until he tripped over a wayward box.

As he rolled over, groaning from the impact, he bumped into a prone body sprawled on the asphalt. He felt the familiar profile, choking as he encountered the congealed blood. Matt whimpered, "dad?" Tears streamed down his cheeks as he leaned into his father's chest. "Daddy, no," he cried. He felt the face again, drawing back in horror as he felt the soft chin. How could he mistake Foggy's face for his father's? "No, F-Foggy," Matt cried, feeling down his chest until he felt sticky blood still trickling from Foggy’s side.

Matt’s knuckles bumped against fur and Matt fell on Foggy's stomach as he pulled Daisy's small unbreathing body towards his chest. "Daisy," Matt sobbed. "No. Foggy, no... I can't..." He curled up beside Foggy, resting his head against his stomach, hugging Daisy so hard that she would have yelped if she were alive. He sobbed into her fur, clutching at the pain in his chest. "I can't... I can't..."

After lying in the cold for what seemed like hours, Matt felt the stomach under his head harden and he slipped off onto the pavement. "Get off me, Matthew." His head was pushed away and he rolled onto his knees. "Elektra," he whispered. "Where-"

But he wasn't given the chance to continue. Something kicked him in the head from behind and he fell flat on his face. "Pathetic," Elektra sneered. "Get up, Matthew."

"Yeah, get up, Matty," Stick drawled, kicking him hard in the shoulder.

Matt struggled to his feet, stumbling as the dizziness took hold. He steadied himself against a wall, finally reorienting himself as heavy footsteps got closer and closer. A click. Matt jumped sideways just in time, narrowly missing the bullet. He dodged a second bullet before pitching a nearby crate at the assailant's hand. The gun flew from his hand and skittered into a mound of garbage bags. Matt caught up to the assailant before he could retrieve the gun, pulling him backwards and throwing him into the alleyway wall with such force that he crumpled unconscious on the ground. Matt puffed heavily. He could feel his pulse racing, faster than it had ever been.

Screams and bangs swirled around him. Overwhelmed and terrified, he crouched between a couple of crates, hands over his ears. After what seemed like hours, the confusion lessened and he realised that he was listening to the sounds of an ordinary Friday night in Hell's Kitchen. People were laughing in an adjacent bar, and one of them just ordered a round of shots for their friends. A guy tried and failed to pick up a disinterested woman. A crash as someone drunkenly fell against a car outside. Things seemed normal again. Just drunk New Yorkers making drunk New Yorker sounds.

Matt got to his feet just as he heard a crash and a scream. He followed the sounds of the fight, but as he got close, a dozen people descended on him. A trap. He fought them off, punching and kicking wildly as more and more people gathered around. But their skin was slippery, like jelly, and every punch just slid right off their skin.

"Shit, man, get off of him," someone yelled and the people backed away. His breaths were coming in painful wheezes now. He needed to get away. Foggy. He needed to call Foggy. But Foggy was dead. No, he wasn't. Yes, he was. Was he? That was... he let out a sob at the memory of Foggy's bleeding torso... the torso that turned into Elektra.

Matt ran away from the crowd, but was blocked by a figure standing dead still. A swish of robes was the man's only sound. No heartbeat, no breathing.

Matt gave a small whine. "You... you burned to death... I threw you off a building..."

“You killed me, now I must kill you,” Nobu replied.

"You're an illusion. You're not real," Matt said, trying and failing to sound confident.

Nobu gave a fake laugh. "Who's to say what's real and what's not.”

"I say you're not," Matt said, his teeth chattering. "You're not. It's – it's the drug..." He fumbled in his pocket for his phone. "Ring Foggy," he commanded. The phone rang out and Matt let out a moan of despair. "I can't..."

Matt stumbled into a side street. Was this the side street where he'd encountered Foggy earlier? He leaned against the wall, doubled over with his hands against his chest. His wrist pulsed with pain and his knuckles felt raw against his hoodie. He could smell blood - his blood mixed with that of a dozen others. He pulled the stinking shirt from his head and wiped his knuckles before dropping it to the ground. A couple of tears dropped down his cheeks and he slid down the wall so that he was tucked in a ball amongst the rat shit and abandoned soda cans. He was returned to the now when his phone buzzed in his pocket. "Foggy... Foggy... Foggy..."

Matt choked up when he heard Foggy's voice.

"Matt, are you okay? Matt?” Matt could hear the sound of a frantic discussion between Foggy and Karen before Foggy tried again. “Matt, are you okay? Answer me.... Matt... shit."

Matt gasped, "Foggy...."

"Yeah, Matt? Are you okay? Did you have a seizure?"

"Help," Matt croaked.

"I’ll help. Tell me what’s going on though. You've been gone for a couple of hours. Hang on, I’ll check your location." There was a pause and Foggy said, "how did you get all the way over there? It's nowhere near the gym…. actually, never mind. I'm with Karen at Josie's. We'll come get you, okay?"

  
Matt let out a sob. "Thanks," he sniffed.

"Matt, it's going to be okay. I don't know what happened, but – actually, Matt, can you get into the open. Maybe go to the nearest cross-street. You're in the seediest of all the seedy alleys right now."

Matt struggled to his feet and felt the crunch of a hypodermic needle under his sneaker.

"Matt, can you give me an answer please?"

"Yeah," Matt said weakly.

"Are you sure you didn't have a seizure? I'm talking while we find a cab by the way," Foggy said quickly.

"Drug," Matt gasped. "They sprayed something in my face.”

“Shit. The drugs, as in the stuff that got Melvin?”

“Mmm, I think…” Matt gripped onto the wall. “I-I can't...Foggy, please keep talking. I need- I need... you..." He petered off as the walls started drifting towards him, faster and faster. He gave a gasp of surprise and started running towards the end of the alley. The tinny voice of Foggy got fainter and fainter as the walls drew closer. As he got to the cross-street, he ran onto the road, wincing as a car grazed against his side. He held his hands over his ears to protect him from the sound of the horns. Disoriented, he stumbled to the side of the road, tripping over the curb. He could no longer hear Foggy and he realised that he no longer held his phone. Perhaps he'd hallucinated the phone call too. He pushed himself up and stumbled towards the entry stairs of a building. It seemed safe, quiet. He held the handrail as he took one step, then another.

"Matthew," he heard the crackly voice of Erinyes. "Matthew, you thought that you could kill me and just walk free." Matt stopped his ascent, gripping the railing with shaking hands.

"You're not real," he whispered.

"But I am," Elektra called from his other side.

Matt stumbled back down the stairs and steadied himself on the railing. He had Elektra on his left and Erinyes on his right. He took a step towards Elektra, stopping dead when Erinyes shrieked, "put your hands up."

The snakes around her shoulders hissed and Matt let out a whine of fear, stumbling on the cracked concrete sidewalk as he backed away He didn't trust Elektra, but he trusted her more than her supposedly 'bad half', Erinyes.

He felt in his pocket. Maybe his phone was in there. Foggy... he needed to call Foggy. This was not real. He shook his head and whimpered, "no, no, no..."

"Put your hands up where I can see them," Erinyes called.

To Matt’s horror, the snakes started to slither down Erinyes’ legs. As they wound their way across the sidewalk towards Matt, he realised his cane was still folded in his hoodie pocket. It wasn't the GPS cane, but it was something. He might be able to defend himself from the snakes at least.

"Put your hands in the air and then get down on the ground," Erinyes yelled. "I'm not going to tell you again."

Matt pulled the cane from his pocket just as he heard a yelled, "he's got a weapon."

There was a spark, and remembering Erinyes' balls of incapacitating electricity, he dodged sideways. The second spark was too quick. Time slowed as he sensed the ball flying towards his chest. He tried to move, but his knee gave way and he fell forwards into the spark.


	17. Fifty thousand volts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally returned from NYC so I have for you another chapter. I love New York. It's such a great city, but gee it's noisy. How someone with sensitive hearing could cope with all the sirens and jackhammering and horns and subways is beyond me.

Foggy jumped out of the cab at the mouth of the alleyway where Matt was meant to be located. The passage was empty save for the scrabble of something near a small pile of boxes. Foggy instructed Karen to search the main street and started off down the alley, double checking his phone as he walked. Mid-way down the block, he encountered Matt's phone lying atop a bloodied shirt. Foggy grabbed the phone and shone some light onto the bundle. It had a couple of embroidered dots inside the collar - something that Matt did to his shirts to distinguish colours.

Foggy balled up the shirt, murmuring, “Matt, what have you done?” As much as he was worried about Matt right now, he also knew exactly what Matt was capable of.  Who knew what effect hallucinogenic drugs would have on his volatile friend.

In a normal speaking voice, Foggy called, “Matty, where are you? It’s Foggy. Matt?” He stood there listening for a groan, a shuffle, anything. A few pedestrians walked past the mouth of the alleyway, debating which bar to visit next. It broke Foggy’s concentration and he ran back to Karen.

“We need to find Matt fast,” Foggy breathed. “I found his phone and his shirt.”

Karen grabbed the shirt. “Shit, is that blood?”

Foggy winced.

Karen stuffed the shirt in her handbag. “So we have no idea where he is now?”

“And no means to find him.”

“Uh, so do we split up?”

“No,” Foggy said firmly, before saying in a softer tone, “sorry, I mean, I - I- I think we should stick together.”

Karen spun around looking for something, anything. “Where do we start?”

Foggy screwed up his face. “Who knows. You’ve seen him in action. He’s quick.” He paused, not wanting to share his fears. “If he’s still hallucinating-”

“He may be dangerous,” Karen finished in a quiet voice.

Foggy exhaled. “Yeah.”

Foggy and Karen started east, peering behind crates and scaffolding as they walked. Suddenly, a police car and ambulance screamed past in the opposite direction, screeching around the corner. Foggy and Karen looked at each other and without speaking ran after the vehicles.

Within a block, they were both wheezing. Karen stopped to take off her heels, swearing as one clattered to the ground. Foggy stopped, but Karen said, “go, go, I’ll catch up.”

“Thanks,” Foggy gasped before running down the street. The sirens had stopped but the flashing lights reflected off the building at the end of the street. Foggy slowed as he got to the corner, now scared about what he would find - if anything. It might not even be Matt after all.

Foggy jogged up to the small crowd of onlookers, but his vision was blocked by the ambulance and police cars, paramedics, and a row of police. He tapped a fellow onlooker on the shoulder. “What’s happening?”

“The cops tased a guy.”

Craning his head, Foggy asked, “do you know who?”

“Dunno. Someone said he was blind.”

Someone else added, “and unarmed. All he had was one of those white sticks – you know, the ones blind people use. Some guy got it all on camera.”

“It was videoed? Who?”

“Uh, Dunno. I can’t see him anymore.”

Foggy elbowed his way to the front and tried to engage one of the officers. “Hi officer, I think that's my friend.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to get you to stand back.”

“No, really, I think he’s my friend, Matt. He has epilepsy.”

“I can’t help you right now, sir. This is a crime scene.”

“Crime scene? What happened?”

“Sir, I’m going to have to get you to stand back. I can’t answer any questions right now.”

There was a hand on Foggy’s shoulder as Karen arrived. “Foggy, what’s happening?” She added in a whisper, “is it Matt?”

“Blind man tased by the police. It seems too much of a coincidence. But they won’t tell me anything.” Foggy bit his lip to keep himself from crying.

Karen pulled Foggy in for a hug. “Let me try,” she whispered.

She tried to get something out of the officer, but despite her best efforts, she too was turned away. Swearing under her breath, Karen made her way back to Foggy and shook her head. She silently grabbed his hand and they waited for proof that it was indeed Matt. As one of the police was called away, a small gap opened up, and they got the confirmation they were waiting for: Matt was being lifted onto a stretcher.

“Shit. He’s seizing.” Foggy elbowed his way back to the police officer. “Please, officer, that’s my partner, Matt Murdock. I’m his medical proxy. If he’s receiving treatment, I need to be over there.”

The officer looked peeved at the repeat disturbance, but eventually drawled, “wait here.” He went to speak to a colleague, but before he could return, Matt was loaded into the back of the ambulance and the vehicle started off, sirens blazing.

 

* * *

 

Foggy leaned on the counter of the ER reception, red faced and sweaty.

The receptionist looked up in alarm. “Are you okay, sir? Please sit down.”

“Fine… I’m fine,” Foggy wheezed. “Matthew Murdock… he was brought in by ambulance.” Foggy wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I need to be with him.”

“Sir, sit down.”

“No, I’m fine,” Foggy snapped. “I need to see him.”

“Are you his next of kin?”

“Medical proxy. He’s got epilepsy. Had a seizure. He gets anxious when he wakes and needs me there.”

The receptionist tapped into the computer. “Your name?”

“Franklin Nelson.” He patted his pocket, fumbling for his ID.

“Matthew Murdock was brought in a few minutes ago. I’ll get someone to take you to him.” The receptionist looked at Karen. “Who are you?”

“Karen Page.”

“She’s with me,” Foggy said quickly. “We’re Matt’s family,” he said confidently before whispering, “essentially.”

The secretary looked as if she didn’t quite believe them, but Foggy gave her a pathetic, pleading look. Eventually she sighed and waved them through.

An orderly led Foggy and Karen through to the ER, but stopped at the edge of the treatment room. Through the window they could see Matt was still seizing. Foggy craned his neck to get a better look. “What’s going on?”

The orderly hummed and said, “I’ll let them know you’re out here.” He pointed at the nearby bank of chairs. “Wait there.”

Foggy had no intention of sitting. He paced back and fro in front of the treatment doors while Karen watched in silence, her hand over her mouth.

Foggy jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Foggy, hi.”

He whipped around. “Claire! What – why aren’t you in there?”

“Never mind that.” She pulled him into a corner.

“No, I want to see Matt,” he said, shrugging Claire off.

“You need to see something first.” Claire pulled out her phone. “Look,” she whispered, holding up the recording of the tasing.

“What-” Foggy stopped. “Give me that. Is that Matt?” Karen rushed to join them at the sound of Matt’s name.

“He was tasered by the police,” Claire whispered.

“I know,” Foggy replied.

“You know?”

“Yeah, I tracked his location via phone and it led me to the aftermath. They brought him here before I could – uh, never mind." Foggy looked over his shoulder and then leaned in. "How did you get access to the video?”

“Apparently it was streamed live and now it’s been republished on every social media platform you can think of.” Claire huffed in annoyance.

“Holy shit,” Karen said. “He doesn’t do his – his thing, does he?”

Claire just gestured at the phone as if to say _just watch_.

Foggy squinted as he watched the shaky, pixelated video of Matt hunched in a protective position. He had his hood up and his head down, as if listening to something intently. “They ask him to put his hands up, but never identify themselves as police,” Foggy noted after the police’s second yelled command. “Not so helpful for a blind guy.”

“Watch this,” Claire whispered. They watched as Matt reached into his pocket and pulled out his white cane. There was a flash of action and Matt stumbled out of the way of the first taser shot. There was a panicked yell and the police released two taser shots in quick succession. They hit Matt in his shoulder and chest respectively and he fell to the ground. Even with the low-resolution, Foggy could see the telltale signs of a seizure.

“That – that’s not meant to happen,” one of the officers ventured. As they approached, one of them shone a light on Matt’s face. “Shit, that’s Murdock.”

Foggy hissed at the screen, “help him, dammit,” just as the other officer could he heard to say “you tasered a blind lawyer, well done.”

“How was I to know?”

“The white stick, for one.”

“I didn’t know it was a cane he was pulling out… Maybe he’s faking it?”

“Why would someone fake being blind?”

“No, the seizure.”

“Dude, he’s not faking it. We need an ambulance stat. Help me roll him over.”

One of them suddenly looked towards the camera. “Hey, you. You recording this? Come here with that phone.” The police officer gestured “Give me that.”

The person behind the phone said, “you should probably be prioritising helping the guy on the ground there.”

The officer was incensed. “Stop the video. Delete it.”

“I can’t. It’s live.”

“Liar. Delete it now.”

“Keep talking if you want. I said it’s live.”

“Stop the broadcast,” the officer growled.

“Stopping the broadcast of policemen tasering a blind guy as ordered by, what’s your name?” The police officer glared and the videoer read out, “badge number W675.” The video finished with a panned shot of the growing number of spectators, one of whom said, “you should probably, like, take him to a hospital or something.”

Foggy gave a bitter huff. “I’m going to sue their asses.”

Claire put her arm on Foggy’s and whispered, “stop and think, Foggy. You need to be prepared to answer questions, not ask them. There’s more to it than what we’re seeing here.”

“That’s for sure,” Karen muttered.

“What do you know?” Claire asked.

“That drug Matt was chasing – we think he got dosed.”

“Tonight? Shit, that’s probably affecting his seizure threshold,” Claire said, getting to her feet. She paused and whispered to Foggy, “was he dosed as Matt or, _you know who_?”

Foggy shook his head. “All I know is that he was heading to the gym. Then I got a call. He was pretty out of it, but he was aware enough to call me. He said that he’d been drugged and needed help.”

Claire breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, so we don’t know that they don’t know who he is.”

Foggy gave the phone back. “He’s Matt Murdock, blind attorney,” he said firmly. “I need to see him.”

Karen put her hand on Foggy’s and said, “I’m going to the bathroom for a second. You going to be okay?” She kept her head down, but Foggy could see her lip trembling as she spoke.

“Go. Take as much time as you need,” Foggy replied.

Claire led him back to the windowed doors through which Foggy could see Matt was already intubated. Foggy bit his bottom lip and went to push open the door, but Claire grabbed his arm. “Wait. Let them work.”

“What are they doing now?” Foggy asked.

Claire licked her lips. “Foggy, are you sure you don’t want to wait somewhere else until he’s stabilized?”

“I’m sure.” There was another flurry of activity around Matt, and Foggy said, “what are they doing now, Claire?” There was an edge of hysteria in his voice.

“They’re giving him another dose of lorazepam.”

“To stop the seizures,” Foggy said. He’d had enough experience of seizure emergencies to know that much.

There was a shouted command and Claire pulled Foggy away from the window. “Foggy, come on.” She said, putting her hand on his back and leading him to a nearby bank of chairs. Foggy looked back over his shoulder to see a huddle of people around Matt, but allowed himself to be led away. He sat with his knee jiggling up and down as he waited.

Claire crossed the hall and peered through the window before returning to Foggy’s side. He raised a hopeful eyebrow, but Claire just gave a small shake of her head in response.

Claire gestured to Foggy to stay and pushed open the treatment room door. A minute later, she returned with a colleague who pulled off his gloves with a crack.

“You’re Mr Murdock’s next of kin.”

“Medical power of attorney. And best friend… and flatmate… and business partner,” Foggy stuttered.

The doctor gave him a small smile and continued. “We’re trying to halt the seizure. I don’t know how much you’ve been told”

“Taser,” Foggy said.

“Yes, they shot him twice – why I don’t know. Each one delivered an initial shock of fifty thousand volts, with nineteen shocks a second for five seconds. The shocks are designed to override the central nervous system, and we think that it triggered the status epilepticus. We’re attempting to halt the seizure. We were forced to intubated when his oxygen levels dipped.”

“The taser did this?”

“It’s likely. It’s not the first time a taser has triggered SE in someone with epilepsy.”

“What? And they’re still allowed to do it?”

The doctor gave him an equally frustrated look. “It appears so. Anyway, enough politics for now. What’s done is done. We need to make a few decisions about Matt’s treatment.”

 

Foggy was still waiting in the corridor when Karen returned from her lengthy visit to the bathroom. “They say more than half an hour and there’s a significant chance of permanent brain injury,” Foggy said in lieu of a greeting.

“Foggy…don’t.” she hesitated before hugging him. It was enough to open the floodgates and Foggy gave a loud sob and buried his face in Karen’s shoulder. “How does this keep happening?”

Karen just squeezed harder. “I’m sorry – sorry I left. I just -” She swallowed. “Uh, when do we know how – if…” She petered off, not wanting to verbalize her fears.

Foggy snuffled and pulled away. “He’s still seizing.”

Karen looked at her watch, but Foggy got in first. “Almost an hour,” he said quietly.

“Any questions about the video?”

Foggy nodded. “I got a phone call from a journalist already. How they got my phone number I don’t know.”

“What are you going to do? You should sue. The video shows that the police didn’t even identify themselves. That’s grounds alone.”

Foggy shook his head. “I can’t think about that right now, Karen. It’s only going to make me angry and I can’t handle that as well.” He looked in the direction of the treatment room. “Besides, that’s Matt’s decision.”

They were interrupted by a crash through the door and the doctor strode out. “Mr Nelson, we’ve managed to stop the seizure.”

“Is he okay?”

“We won’t know until he wakes up, I’m afraid. But we’ll take him to radiology straight away and see if there’s any visible damage.”

“What then?”

“We’ll see what the scan reveals, but in the short term we’re going to transfer him to the neuro ICU. Matt’s neurologist will be in to see him shortly.”

“Dr Millet,” Foggy said with a nod. “Um, can I see Matt now?”

“Quickly, yes. Then we’ll take him to radiology.”

Foggy trailed in after the doctor with Karen not far behind. Foggy stopped still at the sight of Matt, who was buried under wires and tubes. His hands were lightly bandaged, and he was naked from the waist up, revealing the two taser sites that were now dressed and taped. Foggy looked around for a blanket to cover him, murmuring, “he looks cold.”

Foggy puzzled for a moment, then asked the doctor, “what happened to his hands?”

“Not sure,” the doctor said, adjusting one of the machines. He turned back to Foggy. “He had boxing gear in his bag, but it doesn’t explain why his knuckles were bloody.”

Foggy held his breath. Bloody knuckles could explain the blood on his shirt at least. It seemed the preferable explanation right now. Foggy thought quickly. “Uh, yeah, we had a rough day in court today and he was going to the gym to let off some steam. He- he likes to box.” Foggy added, “although he goes there to hit bags, not p-people.” Foggy could feel his cheeks turning red and blurted out, “it was his dad who was the boxer, but Matt sticks to the bags…yeah, so…”

“Does he usually box without gloves?”

“Um, not sure. Sorry. He tends to go on his own.”

The doctor continued, “he also has some swelling to his chest, right wrist and knee that suggests some sort of altercation other than the taser incident. The bruising to the face isn’t new though – maybe a few days old.” The doctor stared at Foggy’s nose. “In fact, it looks like you might have been subject to the same injury.”

“He hurt his wrist during a seizure last week. He’s had it bandaged since then.” Foggy avoided the question about the facial injuries altogether and the doctor didn’t probe further.

“We might do an x-ray then.” The Doctor scribbled something on Matt’s charts. “Because of his past chest injuries, we’re going to do an x-ray of his chest too.”

Foggy thought for a moment, trying to come up with a plausible explanation to plant. “Does he have his wallet? Maybe he got mugged.”

“He had his wallet. He didn’t have a cell phone on him though.”

Foggy pretended to look surprised. “That’s probably what they took then.”

“Perhaps.” The doctor studied Foggy for a moment before saying, “we’ll take him to radiology now. You can head up to the NICU waiting room if you’d like.”

Foggy swallowed and nodded. “Thanks, doctor.”

Once Matt was wheeled away, Foggy turned to Karen and said, “you should go home.”

“No, I want to stay here with you.”

“Actually, I need you to do something important for me – for us. Could you look after Daisy tonight? She’s at home waiting for us.”

Karen looked unconvinced, but eventually nodded. “Give me a call if anything changes though.” She gave Foggy a tight squeeze then ran off without looking back. As she turned the corner, Foggy could see her wiping her eyes on her sleeve. He gave a small sigh and started off towards the NICU waiting room. Whatever happened tonight, there was no doubt that their lives were about to change once again.


	18. The haze

Foggy woke to the sound of his phone ringing. He tugged his arm out of the tangle of coarse hospital blanket, struggling upright in the NICU’s squeaky pleather armchair. As he extracted his phone from his pocket, he glanced towards the bed. Matt was propped up against some pillows in exactly the same position as when Foggy had dozed off in the early hours of the morning.

Foggy sighed and accepted the call. “Karen, hi.” He stretched and walked over to the window. The NICU was higher than the regular neurology ward and had views over the surrounding buildings. The water tower opposite was bathed red in the early light. A lone pigeon pecked its way around the base.

Foggy rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, no changes. He’s still asleep, or unconscious, whatever you call it…. dunno. They said they’d know more tomorrow – I mean today - they said tomorrow yesterday.” Foggy cleared his throat and walked back to Matt’s side, holding Matt’s bandaged left hand. Matt’s right wrist, chest and knee were still swollen and bruised, but the x-rays didn’t show any fractures so that was one positive at least. Because of the restraints used during intubation, however, they’d fitted a brace to his injured wrist to prevent any further damage, particularly as Matt somewhat of a reputation after escaping restraints on a previous occasion.

"The scans don't show any visible damage to his brain, so that's something... yeah, maybe... just the seizure ...yeah, here's hoping..." Foggy squeezed the bridge of his nose, withdrawing quickly as it reminded him that it was still very much bruised.

"Don't visit just yet," he said to the anxious Karen. "He’s not going anywhere. Besides, it’s a Saturday – go have a coffee and a bagel somewhere… yeah, you’re right, sorry… Um, how's Daisy... she didn't! I'm so sorry, Karen... yeah, I guess...."

A nurse bustled in to check on Matt and replace one of the nearly empty IV bags. She gave Foggy an apologetic smile and whispered, "you're not officially meant to make phone calls on the ward."

Foggy mouthed 'sorry' and said to Karen, "I'm sorry, I have to go. I'll text you later, okay?"

Foggy hung back until the nurse left. He returned to his usual spot by Matt's side and said to his unconscious friend, “Karen’s going to take Daisy for a few days, Matt. But she misses you. She ended up shredding a box of Karen’s tissues out of protest,” Foggy said with a small chuckle. “Daisy needs you, Matt. You have to get better.” He rubbed the tips of Matt’s swollen fingers. “You both have bandaged paws now.”

Foggy leaned against the padded bed edges. “The police came by last night. They wanted to know why a blind man had bleeding knuckles. Ableist assholes. Apparently, people who are blind are just meant to sit at home being all peaceful and out of sight... Anyway, they’re trying to find something to explain the officer’s actions. Blame the victim and so on.” He gently brushed Matt’s unruly fringe out of his eyes. “Is it something to do with the druggings? Are the cops dirty?” Foggy paused as if waiting for Matt to respond. But there was nothing. The monitor beside him just beeped softly, steadily, out of time with the whoosh of the ventilator.

“Karen says you should sue.” Foggy laughed bitterly. “I told her you wouldn’t want the publicity. There’s already publicity though. I had to put out a short press statement late last night because the media were all over it.” Foggy rested his head on the padded railing. “You gotta wake up, Matty. There’s things to do.”

Foggy drew back as Matt suddenly stretched out. But Foggy’s relief quickly turned into horror as he realized the movement was the start of a seizure. He turned to find someone to help, but one of the machine's alarms had already alerted the staff and three people rushed into the room in quick succession, administering medication straight away. Foggy backed away to the foot of the bed and chewed on his nails, trying to decipher the medical speak. The seizure finally ceased and more doctors were called.

Foggy stayed in the background not daring to ask what was going on. He thumbed his phone on his pocket, debating whether or not to call Claire. He didn't need to make the decision though because on cue, Claire appeared at the door to Matt's room. She smiled at one of the nursing staff and gestured at Foggy before joining him at the foot of Matt’s bed.

"Hey Foggy, how is he?"

"Well, he just had a seizure, so not great."

Claire hummed in agreement.

Foggy said, "he'd appreciate you visiting."

Claire shrugged. "It's the end of my shift, so..." There was an awkward pause. "Any news on the cops who did this?"

"Not that I've heard. There are articles online." Foggy turned to face Matt and Claire did the same.

"Yes, I saw a few. It caused quite the stir amongst my colleagues. It was all I heard about for the rest of the shift."

"Fifty thousand volts, the doctor said." Foggy turned back to Claire. "Honestly, I joke about Matt attracting trouble, but he's also gotta be one of the unluckiest guys in New York."

Claire huffed a sad laugh. She approached Matt's bed and asked the nurse a couple of questions using medical jargon that Foggy didn’t even try to understand. Eventually she returned to Foggy's side and said, "you should go home and shower. Take a break. Look after yourself."

"I'm okay," Foggy said.

Claire rolled her eyes. "You're as stubborn as each other."

"Hey, I'm not the one who roams the streets at night."

Claire gave Foggy a small smile. "I know, I just don't want you to sacrifice your own wellbeing for Matt's."

Foggy didn't smile back. "He needs me here. The shower can wait."

Claire gave Foggy a look of absolute exasperation. "Okay, but call me if you're freaking out... or anything happens." She made for the door, turning around at the last moment. "Oh, and _please_ call Danny. I've received a dozen texts asking how Matt is and why you're not answering his messages."

Foggy sighed. "I will."

As soon as Claire left, Foggy pulled out his phone before remembering the nurse's warning about phone calls. _Look after yourself_ , Claire had said. In Foggy's head, looking after himself equated to coffee. He could call Danny at the same time – a dual mission of sorts. Foggy took a close look at Matt and whispered, "I'll be back soon, Matty."

 

* * *

 

For the next couple of days, the pattern was about the same. Matt was having a couple of seizures a day. Most were short, but two were worryingly long and required multiple doses of medication before they ceased. Although Matt had moments of semi-consciousness, they kept him intubated. In his more lucid moments, Matt responded to requests to squeeze hands or open his eyes, but these moments tended to be short-lived and inevitably interrupted by an unwelcome seizure.

Buoyed by Matt’s occasional responses, Foggy continued to chat to him, passing on Karen’s updates on Daisy in great detail and repeatedly explaining to Matt where he was. The latter came after one of the doctors told him that there was strong evidence that telling patients where they were and what was happening had positive outcomes even if they couldn’t remember it later. But there were only so many times you could repeat such a tale, so Claire retrieved the battered copy of _Vanity Fair_ from the ER nurses’ staffroom for Foggy to read out loud to Matt. Foggy thumbed through the chapters until he found the point in the story where they’d stopped at the end of Matt’s previous hospital visit. Foggy got through three chapters before he realized that Matt might be in hospital for longer than usual. He slowed his reading pace.

A steady stream of flowers, cards, balloons and other gifts were sent by friends, clients and members of Matt’s church congregation. On Sunday afternoon, Father Lantom visited, bringing even more presents from the congregation. Foggy used the priest’s visit as an excuse to run home for an hour, picking up a few more toiletries and one of Matt’s softest pillows. He returned to the hospital to find Lantom holding Matt’s hand and reciting something under his breath. “Sorry,” Foggy said, deftly catching the pillow as it slipped out of his overburdened arms. “I can come back. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll just put…” Foggy dumped everything onto the reclining armchair that had essentially become his bed.

“Not at all,” Lantom replied with a smile. “I’ll come back tomorrow – or whenever you or Matthew need me.”

Foggy gave the priest a small smile. “I’m sure he’d like that, thanks.” Foggy had never understood Matt's faith, but he appreciated the relationship between Matt and his priest. He'd never asked Matt or Father Lantom, but Foggy somehow knew the priest knew about Matt's alter ego. How the priest reconciled the two sides of Matt, Foggy didn't know. In any case, Father Lantom seemed uncompromisingly supportive of Matt and his needs. It was a relief for Foggy to know he wasn’t alone. Between Claire, Karen, Father Lantom, and - as much as Foggy hated to acknowledge it - Danny, Matt had more than enough loyal supporters.

 

As soon as Lantom had left, Foggy started sifting through the new pile of cards and presents. "I know you don't have much self-worth, Matty, but you have a lot of admirers," Foggy told Matt. Matt was showing some signs of consciousness, so Foggy dutifully read each card out loud. “This one is from our old client, Tabitha” Foggy said, clearing his throat. “Dear Matthew, we heard what happened on the news. It’s a disgrace that police are allowed to carry such weapons, let alone use them on the disabled.” Foggy frowned, worried that Matt would be silently riling at the language. “We’re praying for your rapid recovery and hope to see you at church again soon. Love, Tabitha and Mario.” Foggy flipped the card over and said, “there’s a cartoon on the front of a tortoise in a hospital bed with a ring of flowers around its neck. I don’t really understand the joke, but the thought’s there I guess.”

Foggy pawed at the tin that accompanied the card. “Would you be offended if I ate one of the biscuits? They’re home made by Tabitha herself.” Foggy shook his head and placed the tin on the shelf far out of reach. It seemed wrong to eat Matt’s presents without him, even though he knew Matt wouldn’t have minded in the slightest.

“You have a card from Gladys too. You know, if you wanted to go out with her, I reckon you still have a shot. I still don’t get why you shut her out after the sculpture park thing, but she doesn’t seem completely put off. She sent you some socks. They have some nice textured lines on them. Abstract, kinda like that sculpture she helped you buy.” Foggy thought for a moment. “Here, I’ll put them on over your stocking things.” He pulled back the blankets and tugged the socks over the circulation stockings. Matt’s foot twitched. “Sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean to tickle you. Your feet are a bit cold, that’s all. I know how much you like your socks.” He thought for a moment and clasped Matt’s hand. “Are you cold? Squeeze twice for yes.”

After Matt’s immediate positive response, Foggy grabbed another blanket from the foot of the bed, draping it over Matt’s shoulders. “Sorry, I should have asked earlier. I didn’t realize you were so awake.” Foggy pulled the chair closer to Matt’s bed and held his hand. “They said you might not remember, so while you’re awake I’ll tell you again. You went into SE and they had to intubate. You’re still on a ventilator cause you keep having mega seizures and it’s fucking up your breathing. I think you’re getting better though so you just have to hang in there…” Foggy continued the same monologue he recited every time Matt ‘surfaced’.

An hour later, Matt had yet another seizure. “Aaaand repeat,” Foggy sighed as Matt lapsed once again into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

Matt woke to the sensation of drowning. It was accompanied by a loud gurgling sound as his insides started being pulled out of him. He tried to scream but there was something blocking his airways, bumping against the back of his throat and causing him to retch uncontrollably. He tried to save himself but the most he could do was curl his fingers. He gave a weak kick, which only resulted in a shooting pain up his left side. Now desperate, he scratched at the cloth beneath his hand, trying to fight whatever was trying to suffocate him.

“We’re almost done, Matt. You’re doing well,” he heard a muffled voice say. Fingers cupped his chin, holding it still while the tube in his throat rattled and groaned.

 _This is it_ , Matt thought. _This is the end_.

As soon as he’d given up the fight, there was a whoosh of air. Relieved, he tried to take a deep breath, but found he couldn’t. An itch in his throat, he tried to cough but it ended up as a strangled retch. Tears streamed down his cheeks from the effort, warm and itchy on his skin.

“Okay, Matt, another small break,” said the same muffled voice. “You’re okay. Don’t fight the ventilator. Let it do the work.”

Matt’s tears were mopped up with a rough cloth, but the fibers just irritated his oversensitive skin even more. Fresh tears streamed into their place, forming rivulets that ran past his ears and down his neck.

“You’re doing really well, Matt. Just relax. You don’t need to do a thing.”

Matt clawed at the material under his fingers, too exhausted to move, too terrified just to lie there without a fight.

A distant voice said, “can I – can I come back?” Matt stopped fighting as he recognized Foggy’s nervous tone.

“Not until we’re finished. We can’t risk contamination,” the muffled voice replied.

Matt tried to shift away from the muffled one. He arched his spine so that the small of his back lifted ever so slightly away from the mattress, but he couldn’t sustain the effort. He could feel himself drifting off again, the voices becoming gradually less distinct. Then there was a rub of his arm and the muffled voice said, “okay, Matt. Last one. We’re going to increase your oxygen then there’s just ten seconds of suctioning, okay?”

Matt opened his eyes in alarm. Why was there a question at the end? It wasn’t as if he could say no. He squirmed again, kicking weakly against the mattress.

“Heart rate’s up. Just hold off for a moment,” one of the voices said. Then more loudly, he said, “Matt, you need to calm down. It’ll be over soon, but we can’t do this until you settle.”

“Does he need more sedation?”

“We’ll give him a moment first… heartrate’s coming back down.” There was a pat on the shoulder. “You’re doing well, Matt. Really well.”

Matt tried to get their attention. He wanted to beg them not to do whatever they were doing to him anymore.

The muffled voice said, “okay, let’s get this over and done with, Matt. You’re doing really well.”

Matt started to move his head away, but they held his chin, steadying his head. There was a pulling at the tube in his throat once again. The sensation of drowning didn’t get any better the second time. He scrunched his fingers and toes, sure that he was going to suffocate. And then it was over. The shock of air. Then the shock of not being able to choose his breaths.

“That’s it, Matt. Let the ventilator do the work for you. Don’t fight it.”

Matt tried to let go, but everything in him was screaming to try and escape. He wanted them to go away and let him recover in private. His head was pulsing with pain and his eyes prickled with more tears.

But they weren’t finished yet. “Okay, last but not least, teeth cleaning time.”

To Matt, the banality of the statement seemed almost laughable. As if he cared about clean teeth at a time like this. He arched his back, trying to make his displeasure known. Fingers groped around his mouth while a tube poked and prodded the back of his mouth, the vacuum sound an assault on his hearing. He tried to bite down, but the tube got in the way. He shuddered as the tube once again triggered his gag reflex.

“Matt, calm down. We’re just brushing your teeth. We’ll be done in a second.”

More hoovering, more prodding and scraping… Matt screwed his eyes closed, begging for it to be over… everything to be over.

Just as he started to disassociate, someone bellowed, “you’re free to return, Foggy.” Matt opened his eyes in recognition of his friend’s name. By some miracle they’d stopped poking around in his mouth. There was a crinkle of plastic as something was removed from his chest, and then a clink of objects thrown onto a metallic surface. He followed the receding footsteps out of the room and down the hall. It was accompanied by the sound of bright gossiping… a niece’s birthday… advice on an unwanted stray cat… the bar on Monday night…

Moments later, a hand threaded through Matt’s fingers. It caught Matt by surprise. He clawed at the intrusion, retching once again as the minute movement pushed the tube against the back of his throat.

“Matt, it’s me. I-it’s Foggy.”

This time Matt’s tears were of grief, not physical exertion. They were wiped away by a gentle hand.

“I’m sorry, Matt. I’m so sorry, buddy. I know you hate it. You’ll get through this. I know you will. I’ll stay here until you do, I promise,” Foggy whispered, repeating his apologies over and over until they blurred into a haze of indistinct sound.


	19. I don't want to leave you

Karen brought Matt another helium balloon, this time with a squirrel on it. "It seems a bit ridiculous considering he’s unconscious, I know," she remarked. "Maybe he can sense it in his own way."

“He rouses occasionally,” Foggy pointed out. He looked at Matt with a sad smile. “In any case, he’ll add the deflated version to his collection. He still has the monkey and the fish and the rat and the dog – all your balloon gifts neatly folded in his bedside drawer.”

“I’d forgotten about the rat,” Karen said with a chuckle.

Foggy tapped the balloon so that it bobbed about. “He says helium balloons have a particular sound. If he’s awake, he’ll know it’s there… I think. I don’t know how all the sedatives are affecting his senses at the moment." Foggy looked over at Matt who was lying still, his eyes closed. He gestured at the bed. “You should talk to him. He might be listening right now. I know he was semi-awake about an hour ago.”

Karen whispered, “really?”

Foggy nodded towards Matt. “Go on.”

Karen slowly approached Matt's bed and pulled the balloon down to Matt's left hand, leading his fingers over the squirrel's raised ink outline. Matt's eyes flickered open as she rounded the tail.

"Matt, can you hear me?" She squeezed his hand and he opened his eyes a crack. "Oh, he’s awake," Karen said excitedly to Foggy.

Foggy smiled. "See? Told you."

"I hope it doesn't hurt too much," Karen said to Matt. She brushed his hair away from his forehead and he closed his eyes again in response.

Karen turned back to Foggy "Is he in pain?"

"They've loaded him up on sedatives to try and lower his seizure threshold and make all this a bit more tolerable so..." Foggy shrugged.

“ _Tolerable_ ,” Karen repeated. “Shit.”

“Yeah, although some of the things he’s been semi-awake for seem far from tolerable. I’ve never seen him more terrified than when they do the suctioning of his ventilator tube thing. Fortunately, the last few times they’ve given him enough sedation that he’s slept right through it… I think. It’s hard to tell.”

Matt opened his eyes again in response to Foggy’s comment. He had vague memories of this suctioning thing – the fear, the discomfort, the feeling of drowning – but it was only that: vague.

Karen said to Matt, “are you in pain? Uh, I guess one- no, two-two blinks for yes?”

When Matt didn’t react to Karen’s demands, Foggy tried to explain to Karen how they’d been communicating. Their words melted away into mere background noises, indistinct and unimportant. Matt eventually just closed his eyes, unable to engage. He felt an overwhelming urge to scream if not for the fact that he was too tired to move... oh, and the small detail that was the tube down his throat. Karen and Foggy were still chatting away, but it was as if he were underwater. _Loaded him up on sedatives_ , Foggy had said. It explained the fact that his brain was too fuzzy to think. He couldn't even sense the room, let alone work out what was happening to him. He tried to lift his arm, but nothing happened. There was a pinch on the skin of his neck as he swallowed. It was better to concentrate on that pain rather than the tube down his throat. The sensation of air pushed into his lungs was unnerving. He hated it. A mild panic started brewing in his stomach at the thought of his helplessness. The machine beside him started to whine - a sound that seemed to penetrate like a knife into his already painful head. He tried to cover his ears but he was so weak that the most his arms would do was move an inch against the sheet. _Please God_ , he thought, _please take me away. Anywhere but here._

 

"Shit," Foggy said as one of the machines sounded an alarm. He repeated the cuss not soon after as Matt went into the tonic stage of a seizure. Karen jumped back, accidentally letting go of the balloon in surprise. It bobbed against the roof of the NICU while Matt convulsed underneath.

Matt was swamped with nurses and doctors almost immediately. They shooed Karen and Foggy to one side. With a hand over her mouth, Karen whimpered to Foggy, "did I do that?"

Foggy sighed. "No. It just keeps happening. It’s like his eighth seizure in three days. He barely has a chance to recover and then _bam_ , another seizure. It's no one's fault-"

"Apart from the cops. We need to sue."

“Not now, Karen,” Foggy moaned. “Just leave it.”

Karen bit her lip. She pulled Foggy into the corner of the room and whispered, "I've been looking into the officers."

Foggy leaned in. "Did you find anything?"

"They seem squeaky clean. The one who shot Matt is pretty new out of the academy, the other has about a decade more experience, but there's nothing on the public record that suggests he's on the take."

"Well, be careful, okay?"

"You sound like Matt,” Karen replied. “Be careful, Karen; don’t go out alone, Karen,” she parroted. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know. But we stay that to each other – as friends.”

Karen tapped her foot as she watched the movement around Matt’s bed. There was a debate between the staff as to whether they introduce medication now or wait another minute. She looked sideways at Foggy, who was watching the drama with a pained face. He chewed on the skin around his fingers, which were already raw from all the stress. Karen glanced at Foggy just as he drew blood. Pulling his hand from his mouth, she murmured, “you know, Danny's tracking the cops who did this."

It had the desired effect of distracting Foggy. He turned to her. "Shit, really?"

"Yeah, after he visited Matt yesterday, he got really mad."

Foggy shook his head. "I knew I shouldn't have put him on Matt's visitor list."

"It's good for you to have some company here."

"I have Matt-"

" _Other_ than Matt," Karen said pointedly. “Oh thank God,” she breathed as Matt’s seizure ceased.

Foggy checked his watch. “Just over a minute. They’re getting shorter.”

Karen gave him a sad smile. "Are you sure you don't want to go home and have a shower?"

"Why is everyone so obsessed with showers," Foggy said, his voice raised. One of the nurses turned around and shot him a look. "Sorry," Foggy told her. He turned back to Karen and whispered, "I'm not leaving him. I just can’t."

Karen put her hands up. "Okay, okay. It was just an offer. If you want a break, I can stay here with him."

"Sorry," Foggy said. "I shouldn't take it out on you. I'll keep your offer in mind. But really, I have spare clothes and everything." He nodded at the duffle that Karen had brought in filled with some extra changes of clothes. “Thanks for your help.”

 

After giving Foggy updates on Daisy and the firm (in that order because priorities), Karen left him and the still unconscious Matt. Foggy pulled out his laptop to attempt some work. Although he'd arranged for Candy to work full time temporarily, there was more work than Candy and Karen could handle alone. Foggy was trying to catch up wherever he could.

He scrolled through his emails. There were three more requests from news outlets wanting an update on Matt's condition. The media calls and emails were coming thick and fast as the controversy over a blind unarmed man being tasered and badly injured by the police turned into an even greater media frenzy than the previous year's incident where youths had attacked Matt mid-seizure – an incident that resulted in multiple broken bones and a lengthy hospitalization. As Foggy had told Matt on one of his many epic monologues, it was a shame that the media remembered last year's assault rather than their involvement in the Fisk trial, or even the recent class action settlement.

Foggy pulled up Nelson & Murdock’s most recent media release and added a few sentences at the bottom outlining Matt's current state. Foggy had learned over the last three days that it was better to respond straight away than bear the harassment that followed if he simply ignored the requests. Curious, he abandoned his intention to work and clicked through the latest news stories on Matt instead.

“Listen to this, Matt,” Foggy said to his unresponsive friend. “Matthew Murdock, talented attorney who was blinded as a child when he heroically saved an old man from an out of control truck carrying chemical waste…Tasered… blah blah blah… recently pledged a sizeable donation to the Hell’s Kitchen library to assist blind and visually impaired children.” He murmured the next few paragraphs. “Oh I finally get a mention… nothing heroic though. Damn. Maybe I should tell them that I save _you know who_ on a regular basis.” Foggy chuckled to himself. "The media thinks you're the _angel_ of Hell's Kitchen, Matt." He huffed in amusement at his play on words. "Let's just keep it that way for now, hey?"

Foggy closed the laptop and stared at Matt’s now unbandaged knuckles. The injuries had scabbed over - a sight reminiscent of Matt's early days as the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. “You need to get better soon by the way. Candy can’t cover us both indefinitely and I don’t want to leave you.” He touched the back of Matt’s hand. “Please, Matty, you have to get up.”

 

“Foggy, go home for a few hours, take a shower, eat something decent and pat the dog,” Claire ordered on day four.

"You gave me access to your staff shower only yesterday". He sniffed his armpit. “I don’t smell and I certainly don’t need a shower,” Foggy argued.

“Get some fresh air then,” Claire said impatiently.

“What if he wakes up while I’m gone?”

“I’m here, and Danny’s here,” Claire pointed out. Danny nodded enthusiastically.

“I’ll gone on one condition: don’t leave Danny alone with Matt," Foggy said to Claire, although he stared straight at Danny as he spoke. Foggy’s expression was one of someone who wasn’t about to take any shit.

Claire gave Foggy a quizzical look.

"He does a creepy chi thing when Matt’s sleeping.”

“Realignment is not creepy,” Danny insisted.

Foggy rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just don’t do it without Matt’s permission, okay?” He paused and said, “and when I say permission I mean _express_ permission. _Verbal_ permission, in fact.”

Claire gave them both a look of exasperation before turning her back on them and concentrating on Matt instead. “See you later, Foggy,” she said, her back still turned. It was an unmistakable hint.

 

When Foggy returned to the hospital two hours later with supplies of food and coffee, he was disappointed to see Matt in exactly the same position. He half expected Matt to have woken up just to be contrary. But no.

“Anything happen?” Foggy knew the answer, but he asked anyway.

“Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep,” Danny said in synch with Matt’s heart monitor. Claire and Foggy both stared. Despite Danny's supposed dragon conquest, there were moments where he acted so juvenile that it was hard to believe he was actually a fully-grown adult. Foggy opened his mouth to say something cutting then thought twice and shut it with a snap.

Claire cleared her throat. “Uh, Danny told Matt about Julia’s martial arts class. I’m not sure how aware of his surroundings he is at the moment, but doesn’t hurt to talk to him.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah, I told him that I filled in for him at training last night,” Danny said, referring to Matt’s role as a one-on-one assistant for Julia whenever she attended Colleen’s group martial arts classes. “She was a bit quiet at first, but she got into it pretty quickly. I-I can describe the moves, but not as well as Matt.”

They were saved from the subsequent awkward silence when Matt’s neurologist arrived. Claire hissed a less-than-subtle “ _Danny_ ”, pointing him out the door with her thumb. Foggy mouthed a “thanks” at Claire, who in return gave a shrug that said, _that’s what I do_.

 

The discussion Foggy had with Doctor Millet was sobering. Foggy knew that the longer the frequent seizures continued, the greater the risk of permanent brain damage, but with Matt’s seizures getting shorter, he’d hoped to hear better news. Foggy had always appreciated the neurologist’s frankness, but at this point, he could have done with a bit more of a positive spin.

Fortunately, Danny had left when they were kicked out of Matt’s room, so it was only Claire who saw the teary Foggy after the doctor had left. Unlike everyone else, Claire didn’t tell him everything would be okay. Foggy also didn’t feel like he had to explain or justify his anguish, his constant presence at the hospital, or his overprotectiveness of a guy who could take down a Russian gang singlehanded.

Keen to avoid the topic of Matt's dire medical state, Foggy said to Claire, “I just can't help dwelling on the circumstances surrounding the tasering. There’s got to be more to it. What if it’s not an accident? What if someone knew about Daredevil and targeted him?” Foggy knew he was rambling, but he didn't care. He sped up. “Or maybe they're targeting Matt Murdock. Us defense lawyers aren’t the most popular bunch. The force was cleaned out pretty well after Fisk went away, but maybe they didn’t get them all… or maybe they’re new recruits. Where there’s power, there’s corruption.”

Claire crossed her arms. “Do you have any evidence of that?”

“No. I-I’m just trying to make sense of this. I mean, what are the odds that Matt gets drugged and then tasered in the same night?”

“He does tend to attract trouble,” Claire pointed out, still playing the devil’s advocate.

“And that’s when he’s not actively seeking it out.... ergh. I wish I could spend more time digging into this. I know Karen would if she had the chance - well, she's already been digging, but not as much as she'd want to. It’s hard enough for us to keep up with normal company work as it is.”

Claire uncrossed her arms. “You know, I know a good PI if you’re looking to outsource.”

Foggy snorted. “Yeah that’s what I want – a PI looking into Matt’s private life. I wonder how that’s going to go.”

“She’s discreet. Even if she did dig his – you know- his night time stuff up, she’d keep it to herself.”

“Herself? She’s a woman?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Claire narrowed her eyes.

“No problem. I-” Foggy stopped, not wanting to dig a deeper hole. “I’ll have a think and get back to you.”


	20. Talk to us

Five days after the taser incident, Matt’s moments of lucidity had increased in length and his seizure frequency had substantially dropped. He hadn't gone into SE in almost 24 hours, suggesting that his unusual brain activity was finally calming down. The doctors decided it was time to drop his sedation to minimal levels and take him off the ventilator.

 

Through the fuzz, Matt became aware of an excruciating pain in his back. It speared through his lower spine and wrapped around his torso. He gave a grunt of discontent and retched as the tube moved against the back of his throat. He squirmed, which only made the discomfort worse. The beep of the heart monitor increased as his panic spread. He startled as he felt something digging into the side of his neck, but when he tried to get it off, he realized his hands were tied to the bed.

“Matty, it’s me, Foggy.” Matt stilled momentarily as a hand clasped his. He shook it off and started squirming again. He retched and the panic escalated.

“Matt, calm down," Foggy pleaded. "Please, Matty. You're going to hurt yourself at this rate." To himself, Foggy muttered, “this always happens.”

A swarm of nurses and doctors descended on Matt. The mass of heartbeats and smells and voices and activity only made the panic worse. He pulled against the restraints, clenching his fists and kicking at the mattress.

“Matt, calm down,” a nurse said. “We’re here to help. The panic is only going to make things worse.”

“Do we extubate now?” another asked.

“Not until he’s settled down.”

Matt's neurologist said, “Matt, it's Doctor Millet. You’re in Metro General hospital. You had a series of major seizures and we had to put a tube down your throat to help you breathe. We’ll remove it once you’ve calmed down. Do you understand?”

Matt tried to roll over, arching his back as he struggled against the restraints. The monitor beside him beeped angrily as he kicked and moaned.

“Give him 2mg lorazepam,” someone said. “He’s going to hurt himself if this continues.”

“Wait,” Foggy said, cutting though the chatter. The sound of his best friend’s voice made Matt still. Foggy clasped Matt's hand and this time Matt didn’t pull away. He moaned, screwing up his eyes as the vibrations carried along the plastic tube in his throat.

“Matty,” Foggy whispered. “Matty, this is probably really scary, but if you calm down they’ll take the tube out.” Matt kicked at the mattress, but with less force this time. “Yeah, I know. It must be really uncomfortable. But you know, I want you to come off that thing too. It’s been a bit lonely without you.”

“Hold the lorazepam,” Doctor Millet said to the nurse standing by, syringe in hand. The doctor leaned into Matt and said more softly, “we’d like to take you off the ventilator, Matt. We’ll wait a few minutes for you to calm first.”

They did a couple of small tests. Matt demonstrated he was able to breathe without assistance. He squeezed hands and pointed toes, but that was about the extent of his cooperation. It seemed to suffice though because they decided to go ahead with the extubation.

There was a crash of a trolley, the snap of latex gloves. Matt arched his back in protest at the sound.

Foggy gave Matt’s hand another squeeze and rubbed the back of his hand. “You can do it, Matt. No fear, remember?” Foggy's words had the desired effect and Matt found himself sinking back into the mattress. “That’s good, Matt. Good work.”

Doctor Millet looked at Foggy. “You might want to wait outside while we extubate.”

“No, Matt needs me here. I’m fine.”

"Okay, but we need you to stand back."

Foggy reluctantly let go of Matt's hand and stood in the corner. He whispered, "you'll be okay, Matt," hoping that Matt's senses were still keen enough to hear such quiet words.

Foggy had always complied with directions leave the room when Matt had been extubated in the past. He now understood why. Foggy watched with a wrinkled nose as the tube was suctioned. Matt retched and struggled as they then suctioned out his mouth around the tube and deflated the balloon in his throat. Finally, the respiratory specialist instructed Matt to cough and pulled the tube out. One of the nurses swooped in with an oxygen mask, looping the elastic over Matt's head before he could even comprehend what was going on. Matt coughed into the mask while tears of exertion streamed down his cheeks.

One of the nurses said, "you're doing well, Matt. We'll give you a moment to catch your breath. Slow and steady."

“Hey, it’s okay, Matt. It’s okay,” Foggy said, edging forward.

Matt screwed up his eyes. It was not okay. Nothing was okay. He wriggled his hands, protesting the restraints. They were quickly removed, but the pull of the Velcro on the cuffs was too loud for his sensitive ears and he gave a muffled moan into the mask.

Foggy held his breath, expecting Matt to pull off the mask as he so often did when he was tired and disoriented, but Matt just covered his ears and curled into his side. Foggy tentatively put his hand on Matt’s upper arm. Matt didn’t pull away, but he didn’t respond to Foggy’s touch either.

“What now?” Foggy turned to Matt's neurologist.

"We're going to do some quick tests," the doctor replied. She touched the back of Matt's hand. “Matt, I know you probably want to rest, but I’d like you to talk to us first okay.”

Matt stayed curled up on his side, his hands still over his ears.

“His earphones are here somewhere,” Foggy said, rooting through Matt’s duffle. “I won’t turn noise cancelling on, but it helps him calm down. He can still hear. It’s just not as intense.”

Doctor Millet replied, “good idea.”

Foggy cleared his throat. “Matt, I have your earphones. Can I put them on?”

When Matt didn’t reply, Foggy eventually just nudged the earphones against Matt’s hand. Matt rolled onto his back, momentarily dropping his hands. Foggy swooped in to fit the headphones over Matt's ears.

Foggy drew back. “Better, Matt?”

Matt pressed his hands into the earphones, still trying to block out the sound.

“Maybe not,” Foggy mumbled. He cleared his throat and said, “Matt, if you answer Doctor Millet's questions now, I’ll turn noise cancelling on. Deal?”

Matt merely screwed up his eyes further, trying to block out the sensory onslaught. After five days of heavy sedation, the return to near full senses was a shock to the system. He swallowed and took a deep breath. It was a strange sensation after so long on the ventilator. He could feel the whirl and constant hiss of oxygen in the mask, the rubbing of the plastic on his oversensitive cheeks, the sour taste in his mouth. The cacophony of background noise blended together, an overwhelming mix of machine and human sounds. He gave a small moan, wanting to curl up on his side again, but the earphones were now in the way so he tucked his legs up instead, kicking away the scratchy sheets with his stockinged feet.

Doctor Millet went ahead despite Matt's obvious distress, “Matt, can you tell me your full name?”

Matt didn’t respond.

“Matt, can you understand me?”

Nothing.

“Matt, if you can understand me, nod your head.”

Matt paused and gave a single nod.

“Good. Now can you say something for me?”

Matt opened his mouth and it cracked with the dryness. Doctor Millet silently gestured at the nurse for some water. “Hang on, Matt, we’ll get you something to drink.”

His mask was lifted up and a straw poked into his mouth. He recoiled in shock, but soon cottoned on to what was happening. The cup was only a quarter full and he drained it in seconds, licking his lips and immediately wanting more despite his sore throat.

The doctor didn’t waste time. She repeated, “now, can you say your full name?”

Matt opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come.

He could hear the heart rates in the room increase along with his own. Foggy rubbed his arm. “Come on, bud. You can do it.”

Matt opened his mouth again, but nothing came out. He knew what he had to say, but there was obviously a disconnection somewhere between thinking and action. His throat tickled and he coughed – well, it was more a pathetic wheeze, but the effort was enough to trigger a sharp pain across the muscles in his chest.

“Alright, maybe we’ll leave talking for a moment,” the neurologist said. She waited patiently as Matt chugged down another quarter cup of water. “Okay, Matt, let’s get this over and done with,” she said as the straw bubbled against the base of the empty cup. “Matt, can you squeeze my hands please. You’ll have to let go of those earphones first.” She tapped the back of a Matt’s hand and he reluctantly released his grip on the earphones.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Matt had passed all the neurologist’s physical tests, even managing to sit up assisted. But still no words.

“Fuck,” Foggy said under his breath. Matt winced at the words. “Sorry, bud, I didn’t mean-”

Doctor Millet studied Matt. His eyes were drooping closed and he looked absolutely wreaked. "Matt, I think we'll let you rest for a while. You must be tired. I’ll return in a couple of hours, but in the meantime there’ll be someone checking on you every five minutes or so. Use this,” she pressed the buzzer into Matt's hand, “if you need anything.”

As the doctor left the room, Foggy returned to Matt’s side. He whispered, “Matt, will you talk to me?” When Matt didn’t respond, Foggy brushed the back of Matt’s hand.  Turning it over, Foggy threaded his fingers through Matt’s and just stood there in silence, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

An hour passed and Foggy’s back was in agony from standing crouched in one spot. He’d texted just about everyone he knew that Matt had been taken off the ventilator and was awake and responsive. But with Matt just lying there, unspeaking, the novelty was wearing off. Foggy loosened his fingers and Matt responded with a small huff that clouded the oxygen mask. Foggy tried to reach out again, stroking Matt’s head and brushing the hair out of his eyes. Again, no reaction. Matt just lay there, eyes glazed and mouth slack.

Foggy bit his lip and wiped a rogue tear from his cheek. This is not how he’d played out Matt’s recovery. Matt always sprung back from these incidents. What was different this time?

Foggy whispered, “Matt, do you want me to read something to you? Claire retrieved that old copy of _Vanity Fair_. We’re only up to page 450.” Once again there was no response. Foggy sighed. “I'll take that as a no. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Matt closed his eyes, and within a few minutes experienced a seizure. Foggy watched with his hand over his mouth as Matt was dosed with medication to halt the seizure as soon as possible. The more Matt’s brain could rest, the better, Foggy was told. And that meant preventing lengthy seizures at all costs.

Once Matt had roused and then fallen into his post-seizure sleep, Foggy slipped outside and called Karen. “He just had another seizure,” Foggy told her. “No, thank goodness, just regular oxygen. He’s breathing on his own…now we wait, I guess. Did you find anything?” Foggy sighed. “No leads _at all?!”_ Foggy rubbed his forehead as Karen started to rant about how she was too busy rescheduling client appointments and managing the office single-handed to investigate Matt’s tasering beyond the minimum. “I know, I know, sorry, Karen,” Foggy said once he could get a word in. “Um, I was thinking of getting a PI to look into it… no, I _know_ … as if I’d just pick any old person off the street. Claire referred me. Apparently this PI knows about Danny’s fist. Claire said her exact words were, ‘doesn’t give a fuck about his fist as long as he keeps it to himself.’” Foggy bit his lip. He was 99% certain that Matt would have a conniption when he found out that a PI had been hired to look into his affairs, but with Matt incapacitated, and Foggy desperate for more information, he was ready to risk Matt’s wrath. After listening to five minutes of Karen's rant about keeping Matt's identity safe, Foggy finally interrupted her. “Look, Karen, I'm not going to make any decisions yet. I'll see how he recovers over the next few days.”


	21. What's the point

Matt woke to the tapping of keys. He could hear Foggy’s heartbeat through the haze of whatever they’d given him. He was in hospital, he knew that much. That was pretty much all his slow brain could assess right now. Whatever the case, his skin itched and his body felt leaden and sore. He gave a small huff of discontent, but Foggy didn’t seem to notice. He licked his lips, dry and cracked. The mask on his face rubbed uncomfortably against his fine stubble. He tried to get Foggy’s attention, but he couldn’t muster the energy to try and speak. He lay there for what seemed like hours, listening to the taps of the keys. Eventually there was a lengthy pause and the laptop was snapped shut.

“Matt, hey,” Foggy said, his voice sugary sweet. Matt just blinked in response. “How are you feeling, buddy?”

Matt closed his eyes. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He was over it, well and truly over it. He didn’t move when Foggy clasped his hand, nor when his hair was scraped away from his forehead.

“Can you speak yet, Matty? Can you say something for me?”

Matt tried to say, “tired,” but it came out as something quite different.

There was a deathly silence before Foggy cleared his throat and said, “sorry, Matt, I didn’t catch that. Can you try again?”

 _What’s the point_ , Matt thought. _What was the fucking point._

“I’ll call someone," Foggy said, reaching for the call button. "They’ll want to know you’re awake.”

Matt merely sighed into the mask in response, clouding the mask with his heavy breath.

“Sorry, Matt, you’re probably tired. You’ve been mostly unconscious for like five days.”

Matt opened his eyes at that news.

Encouraged, Foggy continued, “I don’t know if you remember me telling you this before, but you got dosed with that drug we were chasing – a-at least I’m 95% sure you did. I got a call from you. Do you remember?” Matt didn’t react so Foggy continued, “anyway, some cops found you apparently acting erratically and they tasered you. _Twice_. In the neck and chest. That's why you might have some pain there.”

Matt sorted through the various pains and aches. He could feel the slight tightness of aging scabs on his left neck and chest.

Foggy continued, “apparently they're actual darts – I never knew that until this week. They pierce your skin then deliver a shock of fifty _thousand_ volts, can you believe it?"

Matt furrowed his brow. Of course he knew how tasers worked. Foggy saw a change in Matt’s expression and said, "sorry, I'm rambling. Anyway, the taser triggered a seizure - actually, heaps of seizures, but the first one went on for ages…” Foggy petered off. “Uh, do you understand what I’m saying?”

Matt tried to think of a response that even half captured the horror of what he’d just been told. But he was tired and there was nothing he could say or do could possibly do, even if he could speak. He rolled onto his side and awkwardly tried to curl into a ball. Things tugged at his arm, his neck, his head, his chest, his leg… everywhere. He swiped at the oxygen mask in annoyance, only managing to knock it crooked so that it dug even more uncomfortably into his left cheek.

Foggy yelped, “hang on, you’re all tangled up. Roll back for a second.” Foggy pushed the mask straight then tried to untangle some of the other lines. But in his confusion, Matt struggled back, weakly batting away Foggy’s hands while scratching at the other attachments.

One of the nurses came to check on Matt just in time to see him paw off one of the leads attached to his chest. She didn’t seem flustered or surprised by Matt’s behavior. Instead, she stood back waiting for him to calm down before approaching.

“Sorry,” Foggy said to the nurse, gripping Matt’s hand so that he didn’t pull off more of the leads. “I should have called you as soon as he woke.”

The nurse mouthed, “it’s okay,” and gave Foggy a supportive smile. In a soft voice, she said, “Matt, we have to re-attach that lead, but I’ll give you a moment to settle. Then I can help you get comfortable.”

Foggy was more impatient. He was still trying to extract the IV tubing from beneath Matt’s arm. "Matt, just lift your shoulder," he said. Matt huffed and lifted his arm. The pain in the crook of his elbow suddenly went away and he found himself exhaling the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He tried to roll over a bit further, but he’d exhausted his energy reserves.

The nurse said, “Matt, I'm just going to readjust the bed. You don’t look particularly comfortable in that position. On three, I’ll get you to help me sit you up a bit.”

Matt found himself pushed forward as pillows were stuffed behind his neck and back and knees. He tried to wriggle away, but stopped when he realized that the new position was far more comfortable than before. He pulled his arms into his chest in a comforting move. With the twist of his hand, however, there was a sudden shooting pain up his arm stemming from the needle above his wrist. He pulled a face and grabbed at the cannula, earning another yelp from Foggy.

“Matt, it’s important that you don’t move that cannula,” the nurse said, hovering a little closer, ready to intervene. “It’s an arterial line. I know it’s probably a bit uncomfortable, but we need it for important blood tests. It’ll be very messy if you pull it out. I can get you some Tylenol if it’s causing you pain.”

The oppositional part of Matt wanted to pull it out just to spite them all. Closing his eyes, Matt tried to block out the world around him, willing for everything to just stop.

 

* * *

 

Foggy assumed that with Matt off the ventilator, everything was going to get better fast. The seizure later that evening put rest to that notion. Matt had experienced at least two seizures a day over the previous five days, but at least then there was some security in the knowledge that he could get enough oxygen through mechanical ventilation.

There was talk of re-intubation when the seizure reached its two-minute mark. Matt was already blue, and stayed a worrying shade even after the seizure ceased at 2 minutes 10 seconds. With Matt struggling to get enough oxygen, there was a brief debate before they dragged in the BiPAP machine that Matt hated so much. Foggy watched from the corner as they fitted the mask, working quickly so that they had it on and working before Matt had even roused from the seizure.

Foggy expected a mini-rebellion would occur when Matt woke up, disoriented and crabby, only to find the much loathed alien mask strapped tightly to his face. It was one of the main reasons the doctors had previously refrained from prescribing it immediately after a seizure.

But if Matt noticed he was wearing the mask on awakening, he certainly didn’t react as per normal. Matt squeezed the registrar’s hand on command once he was lucid enough to obey instructions, but fell asleep immediately afterwards, sleeping through till the early hours of the morning when they removed the mask and replaced it with a regular nasal cannula. The hysterics never came. For Foggy, Matt’s uncharacteristic apathy was unnerving.

Foggy had assumed Matt had fallen straight back to sleep after the exchange. All was quiet in the room save for the rhythm of the various machines around the bed. The staff had silenced the machines' beeping to allow Matt to rest, but they still ticked and whirred. Foggy could hear the hiss of the oxygen and the light buzz of the IV as measured amounts of medication was passed through the machine and into Matt’s veins. If it was that obvious to Foggy, it'd be hell for Matt. Foggy pulled up the thin blanket and was about to curl up in the pleather recliner again when he noticed the reflection of the moonlight bouncing off Matt’s open eyes.

“Matt?” Foggy whispered.

Matt tilted his head in Foggy’s direction.

“Matt, are you okay?”

Matt licked his lips and nodded twice.

“Can I get you anything?”

There was a pause and then Matt shook his head against the pillow.

Foggy was unconvinced, but said, “okay, um, well, it’s 3am, so you should – I might - sleep.” He opened his mouth to try and correct his rambling, but he figured Matt would understand. As Foggy pulled the blanket over his shoulders again, he glanced over at his friend just in time to see a single tear slowly make its way down Matt’s temple, its path silvery in the moonlight.

“Matt? Can I help? Do you need your earphones?”

Matt bit his lip and shook his head again. The medication had affected his hearing to the point where he couldn’t hear Foggy’s heartbeat when wearing his earphones. Foggy’s heartbeat was his rock – the only thing familiar right now.

“Seriously, Matty, let me help. Do you want me to hold your hand?”

Matt shook his head, paused, then gave a single nod. He opened his mouth to say something, but it just came out as an unintelligible noise.

“Sorry, Matt, I don’t understand,” Foggy said delicately.

Matt closed his eyes with a defeated sigh, prompting Foggy to quickly drag the chair closer to the bed.

“Give me your hand, buddy,” Foggy whispered, unfurling Matt’s fingers as he settled back into the chair. It wasn’t a particularly comfortable position. Foggy ended up leaning forward with his head against the padded railings of Matt’s bed, their fingers linked. He’d probably regret it come morning when he’d inevitably wake up with a crook neck, but the expression on Matt’s face only moments earlier had been too pathetic to ignore. It was a worthy sacrifice.

 

* * *

 

When Doctor Millet returned the next morning, Matt once again reluctantly complied with the series of neurological tests. He passed the basic physical tests, but he found himself still unable to speak. He could hear Foggy's heartrate increase as he tried and failed to verbally answer the questions put to him. When he couldn’t even write something with his ancient braille stylus and slate they’d dug up from the hospital’s Occupational Therapy department, Doctor Millet’s tone shifted. She scribbled some notes, then said, “Matt, do you remember the neuropsychologist Doctor Bevan?”

Matt gave a non-committal grunt.

“Okay, well, I’m going to get him to come and do an assessment – like he did after your initial head injury.”

Matt was feeling tired and overwhelmed enough without this extra information. He shifted the pillows around his head and curled into a fetal position, unwilling to cooperate with any further tests. Satisfied with Matt’s progress nonetheless, the doctor signed off on his transfer from the ICU to the High Dependency Unit and told him that she’d return tomorrow.

Foggy felt strange talking about Matt in his presence, so he waited until Doctor Millet had left the room and Matt was distracted by a nurse changing his IV cannula before chasing the doctor down near the elevators. He apologised profusely before saying, "I don't get it. Why can't he speak?"

The doctor looked at her watch. “I have another appointment to get to, but if you’re happy to walk with me to the ground floor, we can chat along the way.”

“Sure, thanks,” Foggy said, jumping into the elevator.

“You have to understand his brain has undergone a major trauma,” the doctor said. “If you remember, when he had his initial head injury, it largely affected his language and respiratory functions. These areas still seem to be affected whenever he has a major seizure or trauma.”

Foggy frowned. “But he was back to his normal talkative self after he was taken off the ventilator that first time.”

“And he could well do so again. He's one of my most resilient and determined patients, and I'm hoping that he'll recover his language soon, but I can't promise anything. What we can do is provide respiratory support and keep searching for a better medication schedule. You met the occupational therapist yesterday afternoon. Later today we have someone coming in to try and figure out why he’s unable to verbally communicate. Together, we’ll figure out a treatment plan.”

“Verbally communicate,” Foggy repeated. “Is that Dr Bevan?”

"No, Dr Bevan is a neuropsychologist. Dr Lambie is a speech pathologist who specialists in neurological disorders. She's very good."

"So many specialists," Foggy sighed.

"Well, these first days or even weeks are critical. It's positive that he doesn't seem to have problems understanding and responding to basic physical commands. It suggests that his language deficit is not a physical problem, nor a comprehension problem. Sometimes patients know the words they want to say, but can’t actually verbalise them. Don’t forget he’s probably very tired. We find that after repeated seizures and or brain injuries people often feel lethargic and flat. It's possible that his mood or energy levels are also affecting his ability to communicate."

"So it's willpower?"

"Mmm I wouldn't put it like that. Think about it as an extreme tiredness."

"He does get depressed after seizures."

"Which is also not unusual."

"Can I suggest - um, you remember Matt's dog, Daisy - the one who predicts his seizures?"

Dr Millet smiled. "You and Matt have mentioned her so many times that she’s impossible to forget."

"Well, I think it might help to have her here. Maybe just a visit. She's very important to him."

Doctor Miller pulled a face. "Daisy is not a service animal so it's impossible to bring her into the HDU. But there are other areas where she’s allowed. The hospital has been trialling a program where as long as the dog is well behaved and on-leash, they can visit regular wards. I’m sure we can find a room for a short visit while he’s in the HDU."

"Could Daisy become a service dog? Do I need proof that she predicts seizures?"

"It's more complex than that. It involves rigorous training and behavioural compliance."

"But it's possible?"

Dr Millet paused and said, "yes, it's possible. If that's what Matt wants."

"Since Matt adopted her, he's stopped having damaging falls. She's revolutionised his life,” Foggy argued. He sighed and said softly, “he needs her."

Doctor Millet stopped walking and turned to Foggy. "I'll refer you to a colleague. He might be able to help. But first, let's arrange that visit. I'm desperate to meet this remarkable pooch in person."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short I know, but lots of H&C.


	22. Daze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I split the chapter posted last night into two, which is why this is posted so soon afterwards.

After the discussion with Doctor Millet, Foggy was sure he needed to get Daisy and Matt together at any cost. He texted Karen, who turned up to the hospital in record time. She smiled when she stepped through the door and saw Matt curled into a mound of pillows. He still looked pale and was attached to a dozen tubes and wires, but it was a massive change from the intubated, barely-conscious Matt that she’d seen only a few days earlier.

She gave his hand a squeeze and he shifted a little more upright in the pillows. “Hey Matt, it’s Karen. How are you?”

Foggy cleared his throat and meaningfully shook his head at Karen. He’d told her about Matt’s language problems over the phone. He didn’t want to repeat it right now. Foggy didn’t know why exactly, but he didn’t want to talk about Matt’s speech problems while he was awake and listening.

“Sorry, Matt. I-I should – I hope you’re feeling better,” Karen said, trying to rephrase the sentiment without the expectation of an answer.

She chatted to the mostly unresponsive Matt for ten minutes, telling him about Daisy and work and the weather. She eventually ran out of topics and turned to Foggy with an apologetic expression.

Foggy moved forward and squeezed Matt's hand. "Matt, I'm just going downstairs for a moment, okay? I'll return in five minutes." Foggy waited for a response but Matt didn't even blink. Foggy silently gestured at Karen to follow and they caught the elevator to the 1st floor.

Karen whispered, "Are you going to tell me why we're going so far out of Matt's earshot?"

Foggy paused. "I just didn't want to talk about him in front of him. I don't know how much he's taking in, but I just feel awkward, you know?"

"Do you need me to stay with him while you go home for a rest?" 

"No, nothing like that. He - I'm happy to stay with him. He needs me here."

"But how long’s that going to go on for, Foggy? He’s not even to responding to us at the moment."

Foggy pulled a face. "Not with words. And that’s even more reason to stay. I wish I could just take him straight home, but if he continues to have breathing problems… yeah, he’ll be in here till that clears up.” Foggy could feel himself rambling, but he continued nonetheless. “They think the breathing is something to do with the original head injury. He always has problems after seizures."

"Foggy-" Karen started. There was something Foggy was holding back. He didn't drag Karen all the way to the 1st floor just to tell her that Matt was having breathing issues, particularly as she’d just seen him wearing a nasal cannula. It was pretty self-evident.

“I-I might get a coke,” Foggy said, digging around in his pocket. Karen trailed after him as he wandered to the vending machine in the corner of the room. He fumbled with the notes as he tried to stuff one after another into the machine. Karen couldn’t stand it anymore. She rolled her eyes and said, “here, let me try.”

Foggy gave her a forced smile as she handed him the can. He cleared his throat and moved onto a safer topic. “How's Daisy?”

"Yeah, she's well,” Karen replied. She fished her phone from her bag and showed Foggy a couple of cute photos taken that morning. “Her paw seems to be all healed up. She’s pining after you guys though. Most of what I just told Matt was true, but I left out the bit took her to the office yesterday and she refused to come out from her basket under his desk. I tried to put her on the leash, but she dug her paws in. I ended up carrying her half the way home."

"Sorry,” Foggy said, but he couldn’t help a slight twitch of his lips.

Karen gave him a small smile. “It’s fine. She’s a darling.”

“Matt's doctor said that we could arrange a visit, provided she can find a suitable meeting room. Apparently dogs are now allowed short visits in the regular wards, but not the HDU. I wish I could sneak her in-"

"But you're going to accept the offer of the meeting room first," Karen said firmly. "I don't care what you say, I'm not sneaking a dog into the ICU-"

“ _HDU._ He’s stepped down a unit now that he’s off the ventilator,” Foggy pointed out.

“Whatever. I’m not sneaking her into any ward. If she’s allowed to visit, why would you need to sneak anyway?”

“Because it’s not the ward, so they said only half an hour. I can’t take her away after half an hour – that’s almost as cruel as not having her visit at all.”

Karen tipped her head back in exasperation. “Come on, Foggy. You didn’t drag me all the way down here to talk about a visit from Daisy. What’s really going on?”

Foggy looked at his watch. "Let's go back up. It's been almost five minutes."

 

They returned to Matt's room to find him sitting slumped on the edge of the bed, his head down. The abandoned nasal cannula was lying tangled on his pillow, but thankfully he’d left everything else in place this time.

“Matt,” Foggy said softly, approaching the bed with care. Foggy put his hand on Matt's back, and Matt slumped even further.

“Matty, please can I put the oxygen back? I know you hate it, but it's only temporary. Just until your poor old brain recovers.”

Matt leaned sideways into Foggy and rested his head on Foggy’s shoulder. "I know, buddy," Foggy whispered. "Can- can I help you?" Karen handed Foggy the tube and Foggy said, "I'm going to refit the oxygen, okay?" Matt didn't respond either way, so Foggy went ahead, looping the cannula under his nose and giving Matt an extra hug when it was back in place. "Good. Thanks, bud. The sooner you get better, the sooner you can come home to Daisy."

Karen shifted on the spot, hesitating a few times before saying, "I-I might head off. I left Candy and Daisy alone at the office, so, yeah… unless you need me here, that is."

Foggy whispered a "no, we're fine, thanks." He added, "thanks for everything. Give Daisy a pat for me-us."

"Keep well, Foggy." She approached Matt and tapped the back of his hand before grasping it. "Matt, you'll get through this. I know you will." She gave his hand a final squeeze before hurrying out of the room, wiping the tears that were threatening to come thick and fast.

Matt was getting heavy against Foggy's shoulder. After ten minutes, Foggy's arm started prickling with pins and needles. "Matty," he whispered. No response. Foggy rubbed Matt’s shoulder and tried again, "Matty, I think you should sit back in bed... actually, do you want to visit the bathroom first?" Matt yawned and slowly nodded. Foggy breathed a sigh of relief at the response, even though it was to something as banal as visiting the bathroom. "Great, buddy," Foggy said, leaning over to the call button. The team of doctors, physiotherapist and occupational therapist still hadn't managed to get Matt to walk as far as the bathroom yet (although they said any movement, no matter how minor, was good), and with the multiple leads and tubes and other things attached to him, Foggy wasn't quite prepared to move Matt without assistance.

When the nurse arrived, she dragged over the wheelchair. Together, the nurse and Foggy helped the leaden Matt into the chair. Matt was limp and unresponsive when the nurse tried to get him to lift his legs onto the footrests, so she did it for him while Foggy bit his lip to stop himself from crying. Matt usually protested any use of a wheelchair. How things had changed.

The nurse had left to check on another patient by the time Matt had finished in the bathroom, so Foggy attempted to move Matt alone. Foggy hauled Matt to his feet with the hope that he’d be able to crawl into bed with assistance. Simultaneously, Matt tried to lean his head against Foggy again, but they were in an awkward standing position and Foggy ended up stumbling sideways, only just catching Matt "Shit, sorry, bud. I wasn't expecting that." Foggy tried to help Matt back into bed, but Matt let out a horrible noise of protest.

Foggy said in alarm, "what's wrong? Does it hurt?"

Matt had his head down and was breathing in tired puffs. He pawed weakly at Foggy's arm, sagging against the side of the bed.

Foggy thought quickly. "Um, what about if we sit together?"

Matt gave a deep grumble, which Foggy took as a yes. They ended up in an awkward dance as Foggy assisted Matt on the bed, while Matt clung onto his arm like a small child. 

When the nurse arrived to take Matt's vitals, she found the two men sitting side by side with Matt crumpled across Foggy's chest. "I made the mistake of leaving him for five minutes," Foggy said with a forced laugh.

In reality, Foggy was shitting himself - if he couldn't even leave for five minutes, there was no way he'd have a chance to visit the office this week. If only they'd employed that paralegal before the incident. They had Candy, but Nelson & Murdock really needed the Murdock. 

Desperate to fill the endless silence, Foggy mused, "Matt, I was thinking... maybe when you get out of here we should go on another vacation. The last one seemed to work well. Maybe we'll go somewhere where there are birds. You can try and pick them - if you remember them, that is." Foggy paused. "How much do you remember, Matt?" Foggy sighed and tried again. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Matt gave a small grunt.

"Yeah? Can you talk to me? This is getting a bit one-way, that's all."

Matt just pressed his head into Foggy's chest a little harder. Foggy placed his hand lightly on the top of Matt's head. "That's cool, buddy, when you're ready…when you're ready."

They sat there in silence for half an hour while Foggy racked his brains thinking of new strategies to get through to Matt. He sat up with a start when he realised he’d missed one of the more obvious strategies. "You know, I was thinking of calling Father Lantom," Foggy said, glancing sideways at Matt. "He visited you when you were on the ventilator. Maybe you heard him. Do you want him to visit?" Without waiting for a reply, Foggy said, "I'll call him now." 

 

Half an hour after placing the call, Father Lantom arrived.

“Hello, Foggy. Hello, Matthew."

“Hi, Father Lantom." Foggy realised with a jolt that he hadn't warned the nurses about the priest's arrival. "You got in here okay."

"They know me," Father Lantom replied with a smile.

Foggy gave him a nervous smile back. He was still a little intimidated by Matt’s priest. Foggy looked down at Matt who was still curled against his chest, eyes half-closed. "Um, Matt, do you want to, uh..." Matt slowly pushed himself up the bed, wincing as he accidently leaned on the wrist with the cannula in it.

"It's nice to see you awake this time, Matthew," Lantom said.

There was a pregnant pause, and Foggy said, "uh, he's not really talking at the moment. The seizure, it - it - uh, they don't know why..."

Lantom waited for Foggy to finish before saying, "we don't need to verbalise in order to talk to God."

"Uh, right..." Foggy didn't know how to respond to Lantom's words. "Maybe I'll go grab a coffee or something. Give you some privacy."

Unlike everyone else who had visited, Father Lantom didn't try to get Matt to talk. Nor did he speak himself. Drawing a chair close to the edge of Matt’s bed, the priest slowly clasped Matt's hands in his. Relieved that nothing was expected of him in exchange, Matt relaxed into the priest’s touch and without thinking, he found himself considering a prayer, the words floating through his head as clear as spoken words.

Father Lantom and Matt sat there for over half an hour, interrupted occasionally by a nurse checking Matt's condition, but otherwise unmoving and unspeaking.

Eventually, Matt tensed and lifted his head towards the door.

Father Lantom sensed Matt’s change in demeanour and deduced the cause. The priest called out, "Foggy?"

Foggy appeared at the door. "Sorry, I can come back later. I just wasn't sure how much time you needed."

"I'd like to come back tomorrow," Lantom said. "If that's okay with you, Matthew."

Matt opened his mouth, paused then nodded. He wanted to add, "only if you have time", but that wasn't an option right now. He sunk back into the pillows and closed his eyes.

"I'll let you rest," Lantom said, interpreting the move. "Thanks for calling, Foggy. It was nice to see you again - although I wish it were under different circumstances." Lantom swept out of the room and Foggy released the breath he didn't realise he was holding.

Foggy jumped up onto the side of Matt's bed. "Better?" Matt opened his eyes and reached for Foggy, finding his hand and giving it a squeeze. "I'm glad," Foggy said. "I'm determined to get you through this, Matty. We all are."

 

* * *

 

The next day, Matt was loaded into a wheelchair and taken to a vacant treatment room where Daisy and Karen were waiting. Doctor Millet accompanied them, keen to meet the famous dog. As soon as Karen let go of the leash, Daisy flew at Matt, leaping onto his lap and licking his chin with an unparalleled franticness. Matt let out a surprised guffaw - the first smile they'd seen on his face since he'd awoken. "Daze," he said slowly. 

"Yeah, Daze," Foggy repeated, clapping Matt on the back. He bit his bottom lip in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing. There was hope yet. 

"Can you introduce me to the famous Daisy, Matt?" Dr Millet stepped closer after Daisy has calmed down. Matt continued stroking the dog’s head, and she leaned into his chest, pressing her snout into the fabric of his hoodie. Matt didn't respond at first. He didn't want to let Daisy go. Ever. But eventually he clicked his fingers and Daisy looked up, meeting the doctor's eyes and wagging her tail.

Doctor Millet smiled. "May I?"

Matt nodded and the doctor gave Daisy a rub behind the ears. She leaned into the touch and the doctor cooed.

"I see why you're enamoured,” Dr Millet said. "Foggy brought up the question of training her as a support dog."

Matt angled his head towards Foggy, furrowing his eyebrows.

The doctor looked between Foggy and Matt. “You don’t seem so sure about the decision, Matt.”

Matt considered it. Would Daisy be allowed to stay with him in the hospital? He'd been adamant that he only wanted Daisy as a pet, but right now, her presence was a light in the dark. 

"There's a process," Dr Millet said. "She'd have to pass training. And we'd have to assess her ability to predict seizures."

"She also turns him on his side after he seizes… and stays with him," Foggy added.

Matt burrowed his head into Daisy's fur. It was too hard. It was the wrong time to make a decision so momentous.

Doctor Millet asked again, “what are your thoughts, Matt? Would you like Foggy to pursue it?”

Matt ran his fingers over Daisy’s head, pulling the wisps of hair away from her eyes. He nodded.

 

Dr Millet chatted to Foggy and Karen about Matt's progress while Matt sat with Daisy, hunched in the wheelchair and obsessively patting her. After half an hour, the doctor said, "we should get you back upstairs, Matt." 

Matt gave a small huff of discontent and pulled Daisy closer to his chest.

"I can bring her back whenever you want," Karen said. 

Matt gave a small whine. 

"Matty, please. Don't make this difficult," Foggy whispered. "You heard Karen. Any time. This was just a short visit. You have to go back upstairs."

Matt mumbled something unintelligible. 

"You can say it, Matt," the doctor encouraged. 

Matt licked his lips. "F-Fog... Daze." He ducked his head again, curling into the dog with great urgency. He could hear his heart pounding. His head ached and he needed to get away from this, from everything. He shifted a socked foot from the footrest and tried to get out of the chair. He'd barely moved of his own accord since he'd woken up, too tired and flat to try. But now he cared. He gave a small moan as the cannula in his arm bumped against the chair's armrest. 

"Matty, stay there." 

Daisy jumped off Matt's lap and started whining and jumping up at his legs. She jumped back onto his lap before leaping back down. She scrabbled at the footrests then sprung back onto Matt’s lap, nosing at his arm with great urgency.

"Shit," Foggy said. He turned to Dr Millet. "You wanted to witness Daisy's predictions. You're just seeing one."

"A seizure?”

Foggy nodded.

“What’s the warning time?” she said to Foggy, dragging over the unused stretcher from the corner of the room.

“It varies,” Foggy said. “Usually a few minutes, sometimes less if there’s a trigger.”

“Matt, I’m going to move you onto the stretcher, okay?”

Matt seemed completely out of it. He barely reacted as the doctor, Foggy and Karen pulled him onto the stretcher, nor when Daisy jumped up with him. The turnaround between Daisy’s warning and the seizure was short, and Matt started seizing almost as soon as he’d been moved.

Foggy said, “should I get help?”

Dr Millet hailed a nurse passing by the door, who rushed in to help, jabbing a suction tube into Matt’s mouth just as the relatively short seizure came to an end.

As soon as Matt stilled, Daisy leaped onto the stretcher. The nurse yelped and tried to push her off, but the doctor said, "wait, I want to see what happens."

Daisy nestled into Matt's stomach and licked his hand. As he started to rouse, she pushed her snout against his hand and then rushed up to nudge his chin, licking him repeatedly. He seemed to rouse more quickly than the other recent seizures. 

"Curious," she said. She turned to Foggy. "You said she pulled him onto his side after a seizure. Did she learn that behaviour naturally?"

"She watched me rolled him over the first couple of times and just seemed to copy me. She gets really possessive when he seizes. She won't even leave his side for food, and that’s saying something. She _loves_ food."

"It's remarkable. The ability to sense a seizure is not something that be taught, so you’re lucky there. But post-seizure support usually takes quite a bit of training. Dogs are usually either one or the other, not both. I think we should definitely pursue the support dog training if that’s what Matt wants. I'm going to get him upstairs now though.”

Daisy struggled against Foggy's grasp when he tried to pick her up. "Such drama," he said, rolling his eyes at Daisy's performance. Karen attached Daisy's leash and she strained against the end, wanting nothing more than to be with Matt. 

Foggy looked apologetically at Karen. "It's probably best you take her straight home."

"I know. She'll calm down eventually." Karen gave Daisy a scratch behind her ears. "I-I don’t want to push you but are you going to come into the office at all before court tomorrow?"

"Yeah, briefly. Mom's going to come in and sit with Matt for the day." Matt was already being wheeled down the corridor back to the HDU so Foggy gave the still straining Daisy a pat and said, "I'll call you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of an emotional chapter for me. 
> 
> Daisy's behaviour in this series is partly modelled on my dog. She wasn't a fighter like Daisy obviously, but she was always good to have around when I recovered from seizures (back when I had them) and in her younger years she'd spin and shake and jump and was honestly the most devoted little thing I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. To get to the point, I had to say goodbye to her a few weeks back after 16 years together. I suspect it's going to take a long time to recover from the loss. Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to my darling dog - my best friend and my muse.


	23. Don't want

If Matt remembered Daisy's visit after he’d woken from his post-seizure sleep, he certainly didn't indicate it. Nevertheless, the two words spoken during her visit seemed to have started something. Later that evening when the kitchen service delivered Matt’s dinner of overcooked chicken and vegetables drowned in powder-mix gravy, he mumbled, "don't want."

Foggy laughed. "Oh Matty, you have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that. Can I give you a hug? I’m going to give you a hug."

Matt screwed up his face in confusion as Foggy wrapped his arms around Matt’s shoulders.

Encouraged by Matt’s spoken words, Foggy said, “mom's going to bring you something more edible tomorrow but I could go get us something to eat now. What do you want - Chinese? Tacos? A salad?”

Matt scratched under his nose, giving himself a brief respite from the constant hiss of oxygen. The nasal cannula dried out his sinuses and dampened his sense of taste. In any case, he wasn't interested in food. He wasn't interested in doing anything. Eating required effort.

“I’ll get anything you want,” Foggy pushed. “You're going to lose those magnificent abs again if you don't eat.”

Matt closed his eyes, hoping Foggy would take the hint. 

Foggy gave a huff of frustration. "Come on, Matt. Please just _try_." He waited for something, anything from Matt. Finally, Foggy sighed and said, "okay, I'm going to get some food for both of us. Please don't freak out. I’ll be gone for fifteen minutes max."

When Foggy returned, far from having freaked out, Matt was curled up asleep. Foggy wondered if it meant he could leave Matt and sleep in a real bed tonight. In any case, he wanted to get food in Matt first.

Foggy tapped Matt’s hand. "Matty, come on buddy, wake up, I have food." Matt shifted but didn't open his eyes. "Please, Matt, you gotta eat something… for me?"

Matt didn't move so Foggy went ahead and opened the containers of dumpling soup. "Your favourite pork dumplings with extra greens just like you like. Even if you don’t want the dumplings, the soup will be good for you," Foggy said. Matt opened his eyes at the smell. "There we go. I got you a spoon, fork and chopsticks. Your choice."

Matt didn’t make any attempt to move, but Foggy wasn’t deterred. "You gotta sit up first." Foggy reached over for the bed button, raising the bed head from the usual small incline to an upright seated position.

Matt kicked back the sheets, a pained expression on his face.

"I hope that means yes please, Matt,” Foggy said, his eyes raised. “Because I'm going to take it personally if you don't eat."

Matt tipped his head back, frustrated with Foggy's threats and demands.

Foggy placed a spoon in Matt's hand and positioned the table so that it was an inch from Matt's chest. Matt rested his hand against the table, too tired to figure out where everything was.

There was a pregnant pause, and then Foggy sighed, “okay, I'll start you off.” There was a squelching sound as he stabbed a dumpling. The spoon was taken out of Matt’s hand and replaced with the dumpling-skewered fork. Matt sat there unmoving until Foggy gently lifted Matt's hand to his mouth. Matt groaned but took a small nibble just to satisfy his friend. Juice dribbled down Matt’s chest, prompting a flurry of activity from Foggy.

“Sorry, buddy,” Foggy said as he took the fork from Matt’s shaking hand and mopped up the juice. “I didn't think this through. Um, can you lean over the bowl?”

Matt lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes. No, he couldn't.

"Dammit," Foggy said, dropping the fork on the table with a sharp clatter. He winced as Matt turned away. "Sorry, Matt. That wasn't directed at you. I should have got something easier for you to eat. If I got a sandwich would you eat it?"

Matt opened and closed his mouth a few times before he mumbled "d't wan".

Foggy sighed and sat heavily in his chair. At least Matt was verbalising the rejection. Small steps. He took a slurp of his own soup. "You're going to have to eat something some time soon.” Looking at Matt’s unresponsive face, Foggy added, “Mom's coming tomorrow. I have to go to court, but she's going to stay with you. She's bringing food so I hope you'll at least try that."

Matt reached for Foggy. "Have you changed your mind? I can get a towel or something to protect your chest."

"Foh-" Matt said, opening his hand and placing it face up on the crumpled sheets. 

"Ohh you want to hold my hand. Um, sure, hang on. I'll swap hands." Foggy reluctantly put down his spoon, but kept it within arm’s reach just in case he had the opportunity to eat.

It took Matt than less than ten minutes to fall asleep after they'd held hands. Foggy awkwardly pulled the table towards him, stabbing a dumpling and shovelling it into his mouth with a satisfied groan. A bit of juice dribbled down his own chin. _Stupid_ , he thought to himself. Matt was struggling with basic tasks as it was. Why dumpling soup of all things?

Foggy pulled out his phone and texted his mother: " _if you bring food tomorrow it needs to be easy for Matt to eat xoxo_ ".

Foggy hung around for the next four hours until he made the executive decision to head home for the night. He typed out a note on the old handheld braille slate and stylus and left it in Matt’s curled hand. Foggy was jittery as he left, but the freedom of the open air and the eventual familiarity of home was freeing. He'd devoted so much time and emotional energy to Matt and his recovery that he'd not had time to himself in almost a week. He put his phone on the loudest ring setting just in case and crawled into bed half clothed. He was asleep within minutes.

Foggy was woken by a tortuously loud ringing by his ear. Opening his eyes just a crack, he clumsily swiped accept and croaked out a “hello, Foggy Nelson speaking.”

" _Foggy, this is Laura McKenzie, HDU Nursing Unit Manager at Metro General_ _-_ "

Foggy sat up. "What happened?"

" _I just want to update you on Matt’s condition. We had to introduce some additional breathing assistance. He was struggling after a seizure_."

"What seizure?"

" _He had a seizure at 11.34pm. It was the second today, so the doctors believe that's why his breathing was compromised. We introduced non-invasive ventilation and managed to stabilise him_."

"I'll come in now."

" _He's sleeping now. Honestly, I'd wait till morning if I were you. We just had instructions to ring you if anything changed_."

"Yeah, um are you sure he's okay? He panics-"

" _He's stable and lightly sedated. He'll likely sleep until morning._ "

"Oh. Okay." Foggy bit his lip. "I'll come in first thing."

 

* * *

 

Come morning, Matt was still deep in sleep. "We'll get him up soon," one of the nurses explained. "It'll be good to get him up and moving."

Matt was like a rag doll when they finally got him to rouse. He barely reacted when they unclipped the alien mask and replaced it with a nasal cannula. He merely opened his mouth a crack and gave an irritable shake of his head. He put up more of a flight when the OT and nurses tried to get him to walk to the bathroom. Matt made it a few steps when he stopped trying all together and put his full weight on the nursing staff. They pulled a chair under him and he sat there puffing while they debated what to do with him. 

"A minutes rest and then we'll continue on, Matt," one of the nurses said encouragingly. Matt tipped his head forward so that his chin rested against his chest, as if to indicate what he thought of that plan. 

"It's just one of those days huh," the other said. "It's okay, we'll get a walker for you."

Foggy watched as they pulled a walking frame over to Matt. He didn't react, negative or otherwise. The nurses directed Matt's arms to the rests along the top of the frame. "One, two, three," one of them said as they hauled him to his feet. Matt huffed in annoyance at the disturbance but shuffled slowly forward to the encouraging words of the nurses, OT and Foggy.

As Matt lingered in the bathroom, Foggy's mother arrived. Unaware of Matt's super hearing, Anna whispered, "how is he?"

"Um, he said a few words yesterday,” Foggy said, chewing on his finger. “So that's an improvement. But he spent last night on non-invasive ventilation so... yeah... it changes constantly."

"Any news of the officer who shot him?"

"No, he's refusing to talk to the media. His partner is too." Foggy looked towards the closed bathroom door where Matt and a nurse were taking their time. "Um, I have to head off. Just chat to Matt if you can. He doesn’t seem all that responsive, but I think he understands everything that's going on. He'll probably sleep most of the day."

Anna gave her son a kiss on the forehead and Foggy rushed off to the office to meet Karen. The Fisher case was one of Matt's passions, and Foggy felt he needed to win at all costs. Candy was backing him up, but she wasn't Matt. Matt had a fire under him that terrified the opposition. Matt had once called it “the devil inside me clawing to get out”. At the time Foggy had laughed, but later on reflection he suspected Matt was serious. He actually believed it. Matt got weird and intense about his Catholicism at times.

 

Matt had overheard the conversation from the bathroom. He thought it strange that Foggy had arranged for Anna to sit with him for the day. There was a glimpse of a memory from the previous night where Foggy had said something or another about his mother and court. He tried to remember if Foggy had mentioned the case. Hell, he tried to remember _any_ case they were working on at the moment, but his memory was completely screwed. The thick fog of medication and seizure recovery didn’t help either.

Matt sat slumped on the toilet, wanting to be anywhere but there, but too tired to move and too embarrassed to ask for help. The decision was eventually taken out of his hands when the nurses moved him to a shower chair and gave him a quick rinse off. They gossiped as they washed the sweat away, ignoring Matt’s scowling and occasional resistance.

Once he was clean and dry, Matt had to admit he felt much better. He’d give anything for a real shower, but at least he didn’t smell like a polecat anymore.

Anna chatted away as Matt settled back in bed. The monologue somewhat lessened Matt's feelings of self-consciousness and gave him something to concentrate on other than his tired and aching body.

After half hour of talking, Anna said, “sorry, gorgeous, I’m probably boring you silly. Do you want to sleep? Foggy said you got tired.”

"Foh- hnh…" Matt tried. He swallowed and closed his eyes. That was all he had in him for now. He nodded and gave Anna's hand a squeeze.

 

Matt woke up to the turning of a page. He licked his lips, wrinkling his nose at the sour tang in his mouth. What he’d give to be able to just get up and brush his teeth.

Anna caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. "Matt, gorgeous." She grasped his hand again. "I was just reading up on the latest celebrity gossip. I know these magazines are silly, but it's some brainless fun."

Matt gave a small incidental huff as he tried to push himself up the bed. 

"Sorry, lovely, I didn't mean brainless. Um, here, have a drink."

Matt gulped down the glass of water and then a second glass of juice before lying back exhausted from that minor activity. He could feel the liquid sloshing around in his otherwise empty stomach. It made him feel ill.

It was a strange day. Matt found it hard to relax with Anna there. He knew he was being watched the whole time and he felt somewhat judged. 

He was lying there awake but with his eyes closed when Foggy returned mid-afternoon. "How is he, mom?"

"He slept most of the day - as you predicted. A friend visited – I think her name was Claire. She works here.”

Foggy nodded. “She likes to check in.”

“Nice woman – but a little distant, don’t you think? Oh and his priest visited."

"That’s good. I think Father Lantom’s visits are good for Matt. Any seizures?"

"Yes, late morning, the poor boy. It tuckered him out. Those horrible officers. How dare they do this to such a gentle, innocent man. Did you hear that the officer has been suspended on full pay? He's being paid to do nothing!"

Sensing an impending rant, Foggy interrupted his mother with, "how did your food go?"

"He ate a few bites of the mac and cheese."

"I knew it'd work," Foggy said triumphantly.

"That’s not all,” Anna said with a satisfied smile. “He ate almost the entire bowl of bread and butter custard."

"That's great."

"I used cream instead of milk. I think anyone would be tempted."

"Thanks, mom. It’s not exactly health food, but it’s better than nothing. He seriously hasn't eaten more than a few bites of anything for a week."

Matt resisted rolling his eyes. Foggy had been bugging him to eat nearly constantly. Anna was even more insistent and the guilt of her cooking two dishes specifically for him had ultimately convinced him to make the effort. He hated that. Guilt ruled his life. Matt gave a small huff, stopping the conversation in its tracks.

"Matt, hey." Foggy's voice sounded lighter than it had been in days. "I didn’t know you were awake. How are you?"

Matt opened his eyes. It seemed a redundant question really. Stuck in bed, connected to all manner of tubes and wires and barely able to move let alone answer in words. He mouthed "Fog".

"Yeah that's right,” Foggy encouraged. “Daisy is going to visit soon – Karen’s just finishing up at the office then she’ll bring Daze in. Oh, and you'll be pleased to hear we won the case today."

Matt knew they were expecting a positive response but he felt completely ambivalent about the news. Nevertheless, he put out his hand in support – the only thing he could think to do.

Foggy gave Matt’s hand a squeeze. "Maybe I'll give you the full rundown when you're feeling a bit better huh?" 

 

* * *

 

As promised, Daisy visited Matt in an empty treatment room late that afternoon. The parting of Matt and Daisy wasn't quite as dramatic as the previous day, but it was obvious Matt was distressed when the assigned hour was up. He clung onto Daisy like a child with its favorite toy, only loosening his grip when Foggy pointed out that she probably wanted to go outside and pee. Matt gave her a final touch of his nose to hers and she licked his nose in return.

In his suddenly mute world, Daisy’s ability to read Matt’s body language over spoken language was his one true comfort. Foggy could see a lift in Matt’s level of activity following the session with Daisy, even though he struggled with the initial parting. He even added a few more words to his repertoire, namely “tired” and “no” (although that might have been the result of that afternoon's speech pathology session as well).

Foggy hoped that the rest of the day would be quiet and uneventful. No seizures, no panicking, just (relatively) quiet hospital time. But Matt rarely did things the easy way. Foggy assumed it was something to do with the sensitivity of his skin that Matt rejected all offers of pajamas or other soft clothes following Daisy’s visit. He insisted on wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, socks and possum fur beanie, and was now lying stretched out on the velvety soft pashmina Foggy's mother had bought Matt.

Eventually, the crabby Matt fell asleep, curled up on his side with his hands tucked into his bare chest. Foggy sighed in relief and started catching up on some work (or more specifically, trying to get Melvin Potter’s postponement extended on account of Matt’s hospitalization).

Because the universe can be cruel, just as Foggy was in the midst of crafting what he hoped was a convincing argument for a further postponement, Kirsten McDuffie called in unannounced. Figuring Matt's discomfort was preferable to Kirsten's potential questions, Foggy quickly reached over and pulled the blankets over Matt’s torso. But not before Kirsten’s eyes locked on the massive scar on his lower stomach.

Foggy narrowed his eyes, “How did you get in here?”

“Hello to you too, Foggy.”

Foggy said, “sorry, hi. It’s just – just most people aren’t allowed to visit the High Dependency Unit.”

“I told them the DA we’re looking into the tasing. They let me through.” Without taking a breath, she gestured at Matt’s sleeping form and said, “those are some impressive scars.”

Ignoring the last point, Foggy replied, “but you’re not looking into the tasing, are you?”

Kirsten shrugged. “I’ve seen the video. The police are handling it in-house at the moment, but between you and me, I think there’s more to it than just a mistaken command.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you two get beaten up in prison, and then the next day your lead witness gets murdered, and then Matt gets tasered by the police.” She paused and glanced back at Matt, obviously considering his scars. In a low voice, Kirsten said, “it’s certainly an odd coincidence, don’t you think? What’s _really_ going on?”

“Look, Kirsten, I don’t know what happened the other night, and Matt’s certainly in no state to discuss it.”

“How is he?”

Foggy gestured at the bank of monitors that were blinking away beside Matt’s bed. “Not great. But he’s improving.” He didn’t want to tell her about his speech difficulties. The legal community loved to gossip and it was only a matter of time before word got out that Matt Murdock had quite literally been silenced. It would probably mean the end of Nelson & Murdock. The longer the secret was kept, the better.

“Your nose is looking better,” Kirsten said.

Before Foggy could figure out a way to wiggle out of this land mine situation, one of the nurses arrived to check on Matt. “Hi,” she said to Kirsten and Foggy. “Don’t mind me.” She pulled at Matt’s arm, earning a groan from Matt. He rolled over at the disturbance. “Matt, it’s Sophie, one of the nurses. I’m just checking your vitals. I’ll be a minute then I’ll let you sleep in peace.”

“Kirsten, I think you should leave,” Foggy ordered just as Kirsten said, “hi, Matt.”

Matt rubbed his face, but didn’t acknowledge Kirsten in any way. He looked exhausted. There were dark bags under his eyes and his lank hair fell over his blanched skin, partially covering his eyes.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t assume you know who I am. Um, it’s Kirsten McDuffie.” She looked between Matt and Foggy, now less confident about intruding. “Um, maybe I’ll let you rest. Sorry, Matt. I hope you get better soon.” She turned to Foggy. “Give me a call if you want to share. Oh-“ she rifled through her bag. “Here, my card.”

As soon as Kirsten and the nurse had left the room, Foggy sat on the edge of Matt’s bed and whispered, “Matt, do you remember anything from Friday night. Anything at all? I need you to find a way of telling me, buddy. Matt licked his lips. “Ngh… har- hard.”

“It’s hard to remember? But you remember something?”

“Mmm… don’t want.”

Foggy clenched his teeth. It was obvious that Matt was trying but communicating like this was near impossible. “Don’t want what? To remember? To think about it? To discuss it?”

Matt shook his head. He couldn’t say the words, so instead he grumbled, “m’tired.”

“Yeah, I know, bud. I know you’re more than tired, but this is important. In case it passed you by, Kirsten McDuffie just turned up asking questions. She wants to know why we were assaulted by Fisk and its relationship to the tasering. I can’t _not_ do anything.”

Matt scrubbed at his face with a clenched hand. He struggled to a sitting position then mumbled, “Foh.”

“Yeah, bud?”

Matt simply replied, “home.”

Foggy sighed. Whatever the next steps were, Foggy was obviously on his own. He unfurled Matt’s fist, giving his palm a rub to try and get him to relax. “Soon, buddy. Just as soon as you’re better. Um, I just have to step out, okay? There’s a phone call I need to make.”

As soon as Foggy was out of the HDU, he pulled out his phone. “Hi Claire, it’s Foggy. That PI you mentioned – how do I get in contact with her?”

 

* * *

 

Foggy gave a polite little knock on the non-splintered side of the door. There was a scuffling from inside, but no positive response. He tried again and there was a yelled, “we’re closed,” from inside.

“Claire warned me you might say that,” Foggy replied.

“Oh yeah, and what did Claire say would happen to people who linger on my doorstep at 9.45pm?”

“We didn’t get that far.  Please, Miss Jones, can we just talk?”

There was a storm of footsteps and the PI opened the door, a look of loathing on her face. “Don’t call me miss.”

“Um, okay. Ms Jones?”

“Jessica is fine. Or Jones.”

“Okay, Jessica it is.” Foggy looked over the woman’s shoulder, taking in the sparse room with its desk, laptop, and most notably, the massive bottle of whiskey. “Can I come in?”

“Are you going to tell me who you are first? Judging from your suit, I’m guessing used car salesman or public defender.”

“Do you always try to insult potential clients?”

“Public defender then.”

Foggy sighed. “I’m a defense attorney. I have a practice with a man named Matthew Murdock. You probably read about him in the news – blind lawyer tasered by the police.”

Jessica Jones crossed her arms, “and you want me to dig something up on the cop who shot him.”

“No, um, maybe, uh, please can I come in – this isn’t a conversation I want to have in the hallway.”

Foggy told Jessica about their investigation into the druggings, the dramatic murder of the key witness in Melvin’s trial, and then his speculations about the Friday night drugging of Matt. He explained that the police didn’t know about the drugs in Matt’s system, and the hospital had mysteriously lost the tox screen – something that Foggy would have been relieved about if not for the suspicion it was part of a greater plot.

Watching the video of Matt’s tasering, Jess said, “he was pretty quick moving out of the way of the first taser shot. It was either a really lucky stumble or he has unusually sharp reflexes.” As the video ended, she turned to Foggy with her eyes narrowed. “Do you want to tell me how a blind guy can jump out if the way of a taser?”

Foggy bit his lip. Claire said Jessica could be trusted, but he wasn’t so sure.

Jessica rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. Client privilege and all that.”

“He-he has great senses - the other ones that is. He can’t see, but his reflexes and balance and four senses are incredible. He uses a thing called echolocation to sense spaces. I don’t know how deliberate his response to the first taser shot was.” Foggy looked down at the floor, counting the knots in the floor board in an attempt to gather his thoughts. “He’s not – he’s not well. He’s not really able to communicate and in the meantime, people are starting to ask questions.”

“Who?”

“Initially the police. Then an assistant DA came in tonight asking about our visit to see Fisk.”

“Wilson Fisk?”

Foggy nodded. “Look, are you going to take the case?”

“I’m not cheap. Just because your friend is disabled, don’t think I’m going to work for free.”

Foggy gaped. “He’s not – well, he has a disability, sure, but he’s not a charity case. Far from it. I’ll pay.”

“Fine. So, Mr-“

“Nelson, but call me Foggy.”

Jessica raised her eyebrows. “You’re called Foggy? Who the fuck would want a lawyer named Foggy?”

“What were you going to say earlier – before you decided to insult me?”

“Just that you need to be upfront with what you know. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“There’s a lot that I’m not telling you, but you don’t need to know Matt’s life story for this task. Just figure out why the cops tasered Matt. And if it was something other than an accident, why.”

Jessica rolled her eyes, but eventually said, “I’ll be in touch.” When Foggy didn’t move, she gestured towards the door, “the exit’s that way.”


	24. The Stranger

Matt woke with a small huff. His breath caught and he gave an arrested cough as the pressure of the mask changed out of synch with his uneven breath. He pulled at the mask so that a hiss of air escaped under the soft pads, the breeze cool against his skin. It was accompanied by a sharp alarm and Matt let go of the mask, realizing what he’d done in his drowsy state.

“Matty, Matty, Matty,” Foggy said as he rushed over to Matt’s side. “Leave it. It’s the alien mask. You know it. Don’t fight it.” He threaded his fingers through Matt’s, saying, “it’s just for a little bit. You had a seizure. It was a bad one and you were really tired afterwards.”

Matt felt the mask, running his fingers over the hard plastic and onto the pads around his face. He could hear Foggy’s breath hitch as he felt the straps and the release clips.

“Here, buddy. Do you want to hold my hand instead?” Matt shook away Foggy’s hand, the movement setting off the alarm on the IV machine. As Matt covered his ears in pain, Foggy swiftly leaned over and hit the silence button. “Stupid thing,” Foggy muttered. It went off at least once a day – the tiniest movement setting the alarm screaming. As if hospital wasn’t stressful enough already.

“Matt, the alarm’s silenced,” Foggy whispered, tapping one of Matt’s hands. Matt slowly released his ears while trying to keep his breathing steady. Surprisingly, it was a lot to concentrate on.

With a series of grunts, Matt rolled onto his side in an attempt to relieve some of the ache in his spine. Foggy tucked a pillow against Matt’s back, earning a low grunt of thanks. At least with the mask, Foggy wouldn’t try and get him to talk. Matt was slowly but steadily regaining his speech, but it still wasn’t fast enough for his liking. After one particularly stressful speech therapy session, Matt’s plate of lunchtime sandwiches had ended up thrown against the wall. Fortunately, both Foggy and the speech therapist had been out of the room at the time. It was a cleaner who was the first to come across the cracked plastic plate and spray of grated carrot and cheese. She grumbled as she swept up the mess. Matt pretended to be asleep to save himself the embarrassment of being unable to verbalize an apology. Foggy had been around for Matt’s second meltdown though and had responded by storming out for a couple of hours. Foggy’s last words - “text me when you’ve decided to behave like an adult” – were undercut by the later realization that Matt’s speech-to-text software didn’t work when he couldn’t speak. Foggy had apologized profusely when he returned to the hospital. The doctors had warned him that expressions of anger and/or frustration were common after brain injuries like the one they suspected Matt had sustained as a result of the tasing. Even though Foggy knew the meltdowns weren’t entirely out of character for Matt, it didn’t stop the guilt.

“Maybe they’ll remove the mask now that you’re awake,” Foggy said. “I’ll go get someone. Hang in there.”

Just as Foggy made for the door, a nurse arrived to check Matt’s vitals, quickly followed by another staff member who’d arrived to take a blood sample. The nurse told Foggy that the decision to remove the mask wasn’t up to her, but that the respiratory therapist and doctor would be up later and they’d assess the situation then.

Foggy gave Matt’s arm a squeeze. “Did you hear that, Matty? You have specialists coming in later, but in the meantime, you have to put up with it for a bit longer. I wonder which doctor it will be this time.”

Matt felt like his room was a revolving door of visitors, doctors, and others who he didn’t know and didn’t care to. He wanted nothing more than to go home, away from the people, the poking, the smells, the pain… but he’d experienced enough dangerous seizures by now to know that home was out of the question in the short term, even if he could gather the energy to walk out of there. He couldn’t keep track of just how many seizures he was having a day, nor did he follow whatever treatments they were giving him. But Foggy knew. Matt could hear his friend scribbling notes as he chatted to doctors and allied healthworkers about treatment decisions and outcomes. Foggy made efforts to consult with Matt on treatment choices, but half the time Matt was too tired to respond or even care. And yet, while he couldn’t verbalize it, Foggy's constant presence was of great comfort to Matt.

Matt tucked one arm into his chest and rested the other one on the mask as a way of grounding himself. Foggy had evidently decided that Matt wasn’t about to rip the mask off again because he retreated to the pleather armchair in the corner. Matt scrunched up his eyes then let go, feeling the tension leave his face. If he could achieve a level of equanimity then maybe, just maybe, time would pass faster.

Matt’s ability to meditate and disconnect from his surroundings meant that he didn’t even hear the stranger come in. It'd been an exhausting day what with the physiotherapy and the speech therapy and visits from Father Lantom and Karen and Daisy and now another seizure... apparently. The alien mask was just the icing on the cake. He’d been attached to it a few times lately. It had got to the point where the machine now lived permanently next to his bed, waiting, ready, a constant threat. Matt didn’t understand why the mask was necessary and the staff had long stopped explaining such decisions. Ultimately, Matt was too exhausted to fight the mask on this occasion. Instead, he channeled his energy into blocking as much sensory input as possible. He managed to block out most sounds, listening to the clicks of the machine and wishing he were somewhere far far away.

Matt was torn from his meditative state by the light pull on his IV. He opened his eyes. What in earth were they giving him now?

He gave a grunt and tried to attract Foggy’s attention, but he couldn’t hear his friend in the room.... oh wait, footsteps.

“Hi,” Foggy said as he entered the room and spotted the stranger injecting something into Matt’s IV. When the stranger ignored him, Foggy’s tone changed to one of suspicion, “what are you giving him?”

Alarmed, Matt tried to unclip the mask, but the sudden wave of fear swept away all rationality and he clawed at mask instead. He gave a gasp as the bed seemed to drop out from beneath him. The mask didn’t let him take in such a breath and he struggled against it, kicking against the mattress with a force that he hadn’t exhibited since he woke up from the tasing. The stranger morphed into Erinyes. A snake slithered off her shoulder and onto the bed, looping its way around the railing before curling up to face Matt, its fangs ready. As it hissed, ready to strike, Matt scrambled backwards up the end of the bed. Erinyes tipped back her head and laughed, “enjoy” before morphing into a cloaked figure. The stranger gave a low, barely audible laugh before striding out of the room.

Foggy yelled after the figure, “hey, who are you? What was that?” Foggy started off down the hallway after the stranger before hesitating and doubling back towards Matt’s bed. “Matt, what’s wrong? Who was that?”

But just as Foggy reached the bed, Matt sensed his friend swell in size, morphing into the towering figure of Wilson Fisk. “How dare you threaten Vanessa. I’m going to kill you,” Fisk roared, grabbing Matt with two strong hands and pushing him into the bed. Fisk held something over his nose and mouth. Matt scrabbled at the thing on his face, but he couldn’t get a grip. It was too tight. This was it. He was going to die. He scratched at Fisk’s hands, and they withdrew. Matt pulled the object from his face and gasped at the fresh air. Flesh and blood and sweat and germs all flooded in, overwhelming his senses so that he retched and doubled over in shock.

Something tugged against his wrist and another at his chest. Eight in total. Tentacles, he concluded. But Erinyes had snakes, not tentacles. What was this new thing? He pulled at the tentacles freeing himself of one snare. It was going to take more force that that. He could hear the traffic below him and assessed that he could make it to the other side of the street without too much risk. He took a daring leap off the edge of the building, using one of the tentacles to swing himself to the street. The tentacles pinged off, and he smiled at the escape. But he was weak. Instead of landing cleanly, he crumpled on contact, rolling onto his side. He was tackled by a dozen men, who pinned him down while he writhed and kicked. Fisk was still watching from nearby, pacing back and forth while he waited for his underlings to incapacitate Matt.

As one of the assailants grabbed his left wrist, Matt swung with his right. It wasn’t a clean hit, but it was enough that the thug released his left hand. The yelling and screaming seemed to drill through his skull and he forgot his vulnerabilities, curling onto his side with his hands pressed tight over his ears.

 

* * *

 

Foggy tried to grab Matt as he performed a crazed leap off the bed, seemingly trying to swing off one of the heart monitor leads, but instead hitting the floor with a heavy thud. He left a trail of blood from where he’d ripped out his IV. Foggy tried to pull the writhing Matt off the floor, but Matt wasn’t having any of it. He hit out with his free right hand, smacking Foggy in the nose. Foggy let go just as a trail of nurses ran in, alerted by the commotion of yelps and the screaming of machines. Matt covered his ears and gave a tortured whine, but before Foggy could comfort him, Matt stiffened and then started to convulse.

“What happened?”

“You tell me,” Foggy said, holding onto his bleeding nose. He grabbed the wad of gauze offered by one of the nurses. “Thanks,” he said, holding it to his poor nose. But he didn’t have time for self-pity. He gestured at Matt and said, “whatever medication you just gave him made him go ballistic. What was it?”

“Matt’s not due for any medication,” one of the other nurses replied. Their focus was on Matt and stopping the seizure, but with his IV pulled out, the drugs on hand were impossible to administer quickly.

Furrowing his brow, Foggy said, “b-but there was someone in a gown. They put something in his drip.”

The nurses looked at each other. “I’ll call security,” one of them said, running out of the room.

The doctor crouched next to Matt’s head, yelled to another nurse, “we need a tox screen stat.”

 

When Matt roused from a seizure, he was usually sleepy and a little bit cranky, but rarely reactive to his surroundings unless they were particularly uncomfortable. He tended to go from post-ictal confused state to sleep without much noise or action. When he woke this time, however, he was in a state of utter distress: a combination of his usual post-seizure confusion and the fear triggered by whatever he'd been dosed with.

Matt gave a low moan, trying and failing to roll to his side. Foggy reached for Matt's hand, but Matt pulled away immediately, shuddering as he tried to slither away from an imaginary foe. He tucked his arms up to his bare chest, scratching weakly at the pads of the heart monitor stuck to his skin. Eventually he gave up, curling into a foetal position, his eyes screwed closed, puffing fast into the oxygen mask. The doctors were still waiting on the blood tests to see exactly what he'd been dosed with and were wary about giving him sedatives or other medications that might interact with the terror-inducing drug. They were streaming in and out, taking blood and doing all variety of tests.

Eventually, the results came in, and they came to consult Foggy.

"The drug in his system is a hallucinogenic. It's a new drug on the streets. It causes extreme violence, erratic behavior, and temporary psychosis. People have reported experiencing feelings of extreme terror."

Foggy pulled a face. "That's what's happening now? Extreme terror?" He looked back at Matt’s quaking body and whispered, “shit.”

"It explains some of Matt's behavior. He's just coming out of his post-ictal state, so there’s already a certain level of disorientation. Our primary concern right now is that he'll have another seizure before his brain has a chance to recover. It's likely that the stress placed on his system is lowering his seizure threshold. We'd like to sedate him until the drug passes through his system."

"And that will stop the hallucinations?"

"He'll be largely unaware."

"Largely," Foggy repeated. "Can't you sedate him completely?"

"It's a delicate balance. We don't want to risk depressing his respiratory function to the point where we have to intubate. But we'll do what we can.” He waited for a response from the distracted Foggy, eventually prompting, “so is that a yes to sedation?"

Foggy snapped out of his daze. "Yes, yes, do whatever you can."

 

* * *

 

Foggy had sent off a text to Danny as soon as Matt's seizure had ceased. If someone was trying to poison Matt, then Matt needed all the protection he could get at the moment. He certainly didn't trust the police right now. He toyed with the idea of texting Jessica, but he didn't trust her yet.

With Danny known to the staff at the HDU as a close friend of Matt's, he managed to talk his way in before the floor went into total lockdown. "That was quick," Foggy said as Danny slipped into the room.

"I was already coming up to visit,” Danny said. “I wanted to tell him I was looking out for Melvin. I got the feeling Matt was quite anxious about him." Danny pulled a small furry ball with googly eyes from his pocket. "Matt said he didn't care for flowers, so I got him this. It's soft."

Foggy stared at the object and then back at Danny, not sure if he was serious or not. "Right, um, I'm sure he'll like it-"

"What happened to your face?"

"It was Matt," Foggy whispered. "He went ballistic. I don't think he knew where he was or who I was. I told the staff here that I bumped it trying to catch Matt as he fell. I didn’t want them to restrain him, and they might if they think he’s dangerous. He's sedated right now, but who knows what'll happen when he wakes up."

"He's suffering," Danny said, tipping his head in Matt's direction.

"He's unconscious," Foggy replied.

"Not completely. Underneath that, he's suffering," Danny insisted.

"What do you mean?"

"I can feel it," Danny replied.

Foggy refrained from rolling his eyes. Matt used the 'feeling it' excuse when he didn't want to explain things.

"I can help." Danny bounced on his toes a few times, a hopeful look on his face.

"Thanks, Danny, I knew you’d help. It’s really important he’s guarded until we can figure out who did this."

"No, I want to help by rebalancing his chi. I mean, I can guard him too, but-"

"Danny, we've gone over this,” Foggy groaned. “He doesn't want you to do... _that_."

Danny pointed at Matt’s now static form. "He's suffering. If there's a chance that I could help, wouldn't you want that?"

"Can’t you just help me guard him?"

Danny gave Foggy a look of frustration. "Watch." Danny walked over to Matt's bed and placed the furry ball into Matt's hand. The now unmuted heart monitor immediately beeped faster. "See? He’s still taking stuff in. He’s suffering."

Foggy bit his lip. The doctors had said they didn’t want to sedate Matt completely, but because he wasn’t moving, Foggy just assumed he was no longer hallucinating. It seemed not. Foggy eventually said, "okay, how does this work?"

Danny rolled his shoulders. "Just keep people out of the room until I finished."


	25. I didn't think that would happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thanks all for your kind comments about my dear old pooch a few chapters back. I really appreciate it. No Daisy in this chapter I'm afraid, but she'll return soon.

Foggy watched as Danny sat cross legged on the bed and placed one hand on Matt’s forehead and one on his chest. Danny closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Foggy took a furtive look down the hallway. Staff were checking on Matt about every five to ten minutes. Danny said that he'd probably need at least that.

A nurse rounded the corner and Foggy tensed, glancing in at Danny who had his eyes closed, deep in concentration. Halfway down the short corridor, the nurse paused and walked into an adjacent patient's room. Foggy breathed a sigh of relief.

After a couple of minutes, Foggy watched with wide eyes as Danny's hand started to glow. He’d heard about this fist over and over, but having never seen the fist in action, Foggy had almost forgotten about it.

Foggy was so engrossed in the fist that he didn't notice one of the nurses coming straight towards him. Snapping back to attention, Foggy stepped forward, blocking her path. "Uh, any news on the person who dosed Matt?"

"You have to ask security," the nurse replied. "We don't get told things like that." She made to walk around Foggy, but Foggy quickly jumped in with a, "but there's someone guarding the ward now?"

"Yes, no one is allowed in or out without special clearance." She went to move again, "excuse me, I need to take Matt's vitals."

"He's-he's-" Foggy thought quickly. "Um, he's in with that guy Danny - you know him - um, they're praying together... well, Danny's praying. You know how Matt's Catholic-"

The nurse looked unconvinced. "I'll only be a minute."

"Danny will only be another five minutes. I know Matt's sedated and all, but it means a lot to both of them."

Foggy hoped that Father Lantom's daily visits and the rosary next to Matt's bed (left by the priest on his first visit) would help his argument.

"Five minutes," the nurse replied crisply, turning on her heels.

Foggy sighed and turned back to Matt and Danny. He could hear a slight slowing in Matt's heartrate. As another minute passed, Matt's breathing eased and his clawed hand started to unfurl. His foot twitched and he gave a small moan, shifting in the bed.

The glow in Danny's hand started to fade and eventually he pulled away. Danny rolled his shoulders and let out a shuddering groan. "Oh, man," he said. "He's had a hard time." He gestured at Foggy that it was safe to approach then slid off the bed, staggering towards the armchair. Before Foggy could ask Danny what he'd just done, however, the nurse returned. 

She looked at the monitors as she walked around the bed to take Matt’s blood pressure. "His heartrate is back to normal," she said to Foggy and Danny. "And his oxygen sats are much better."

Matt gave a small groan as she took his blood pressure. She shook her head in confusion. "Matt, are you awake?"

Matt's eyes flickered open.

"Matt, can you squeeze my hand," she said, slipping her fingers through his. "Good. I’m going to page your doctor. We weren’t expecting you to wake up just yet.”

The doctor was equally as surprised. They'd plied Matt with enough sedatives to knock him out for the couple of hours at least. "The effects of the hallucinogenic drug usually last far beyond a couple of hours," the doctor told Foggy. "I can't understand it. It's as if both drugs have left his system."

After they left the room with a fresh blood sample for testing, Matt croaked, "Fog?"

"Yeah, Matt?" Foggy raced to Matt's side and looped his fingers through Matt's.

Matt was still dopey and tired, so he took a few moments before mumbling, "what happened?"

Foggy let out a hysterical laugh.

Matt frowned and with shaking hands pushed away the oxygen mask. "Wha?"

"Dude, I know you hate it, but you have to keep this on," Foggy said, replacing the mask.

Matt huffed, and dropped his hand to his chest, running his fingers over the heart monitor pads, then the bandages on both lower arms. He repeated a slurred, "what happened?"

“Right arm, you ripped out your IV; left arm, they put a bandage around your new IV to prevent you from ripping it out again.” Foggy added, “it’s become a bit of a habit of yours.”

Matt gave a frustrated groan.

“Oh, before that,” Foggy said, realizing that Matt wasn’t talking about the bandages alone. “Dramatic stuff - you got dosed with that hallucinogenic drug. Someone snuck in and put it in your IV while you were asleep. You went nuts and fell off the bed, then you had a seizure. They plied you with sedatives to try and lower your heartrate and prevent another seizure, but then Danny did his chi thing and it seemed to clear both the drug and the sedatives from your system. A voila," Foggy finished.

"Danny what?"

Danny waved from the corner of the room. "Hey, Matt."

"Don't get mad, Matt," Foggy said quickly. "I know you didn’t want Danny to do his chi thing, but you have no idea how sick you were."

Matt closed his eyes.

"Buddy, say something. Please."

"M’tired," Matt finally replied. "This -this is too much."

Foggy pursed his lips and took a step back. He looked over his shoulder at Danny who gave a small shrug.

"Sure, I-I'll stay here till you wake up."

Matt grunted thanks and rolled onto his side. He was barely asleep when the nurse returned and switched his mask for a nasal cannula. Things seemed to be getting better. Foggy smiled at Danny and mouthed, 'thanks'.

Matt’s stable state didn’t last long. He’d barely fallen asleep when he had another seizure – the fourth for the day. It came just before the results of the latest blood results arrived. There was a flurry of activity and Foggy recognized the names of Matt’s current anti-convulsants yelled out loud as they administered medication after medication into his IV.

Once Matt had stabilized, one of the doctors explained to Foggy that the blood results taken before he seized showed no drugs in his system – not even the usual anti-convulsants and post-drugging sedatives. “I don’t understand it,” the doctor said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” He gestured at Matt, who was now fast asleep, the alien mask strapped to his face. “We’ve given him a replacement dose of the anti-convulsants and some more sedatives and shortly we’ll do a few more blood tests just to make sure it’s a one-off phenomenon. In the meantime, we’re supporting his breathing and do as much as we can to prevent another seizure. He’s exhausted.”

Foggy glanced at Danny who was looking stricken. As soon as the doctor left the room, Danny said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think that would happen.”

Foggy had seen the look on Matt’s face after he’d been drugged – the look of absolute fear Foggy had never seen before and hoped he never would. With Matt stable and the injected drugs out of his system, Danny’s fist thing still seemed the better option. Foggy waved him off. “It’s fine. You got rid of the hallucinogen… and hey, he just spoke to us. Maybe you got some residual hallucinogen from the first drugging out of him as well. Who knows what the long-term effects of those drugs are.”

Danny gave him a small, thankful smile. He glanced at the door. “I-I might get some tea from the visitor’s lounge. Do you want one?”

Foggy didn’t understand Matt and Danny’s obsession with tea, but he said yes anyway, hoping that it’d somehow help with Danny’s obvious guilt.

Returning with two cups of green tea (Foggy’s least favorite, unfortunately), the two men sat in the corner of Matt’s room and watched him sleep. 

Foggy whispered, "Claire said you know Jessica Jones."

"Not well, but yeah, she helped me regain my identity when I returned to New York."

"Is she trustworthy?"

Danny shrugged. "I think so. Hogarth wouldn't keep using her if she weren't. Why?"

"I don’t think that Hogarth and trust should ever be said in the same sentence,” Foggy deadpanned. Hogarth was notorious within the legal community, but obviously the comment was lost on Danny – he just looked confused. Foggy continued, “sorry, not the point. The thing is, I engaged Jones to look into the cops and the druggings only a couple of days ago. Today, Matt gets drugged in hospital. I want to think it's a coincidence but-"

"Jessica wouldn't have done this," Danny interrupted.

"How do you know?"

"I just know. She's been the victim of medical experiments in the past - she wouldn't put anyone else through that."

Foggy sighed and looked back at Matt's sleeping figure. "I would never forgive myself if he got dosed because of my actions."

"Dude, you already do everything for this guy."

“What do you mean medical experiments?”

“That’s why Jess is so strong – and I think it’s why she drinks so much too. I mean, she never explicitly said that’s why she drinks, but I think it’s a coping mechanism.”

“How strong?”

“Uh, like Luke Cage strong? Maybe. Actually, maybe less. I don’t think she’s bulletproof.”

Foggy shook his head, unconvinced. “But Luke Cage looks strong. Jessica looks – she looks normal.”

Danny shrugged. “Don’t know how it works, sorry. But you should contact Jessica. She needs to know about this. Claire should know too."

Foggy toyed with the phone in his pocket. He knew Karen would want to know as well, but he was tired and the idea of explaining the day's bizarre turn of events seemed overwhelming. "Okay, I'll text her now. Um, don't tell Matt about Jessica just yet. I don't want to upset him any more than he is."

Danny pulled his legs onto the chair and sat cross legged, staring into his cup of tea. “Have you considered that it could be the Hand?”

“The Hand? As in the lunatic ninja cult?”

“Yeah, maybe they poisoned Matt.”

“But they have magic,” Foggy said, shaking his head. “Why would they use something like a hallucinogen when they can do things like bring back people from the dead?”

Danny looked at Foggy. “They controlled the heroin industry in New York for years. Who says they’re not into this new drug.”

“It doesn’t make sense. The people they’ve been targeting – half of them are the distributors. And Melvin – why would they target someone like Melvin Potter?”

Danny thought for a moment before shrugging. “It was just an idea.”

Foggy sighed. It certainly couldn’t be discounted, even if it seemed ridiculous. If it was the Hand targeting Matt though, the problem was way beyond Foggy and Karen’s expertise and capabilities. A drugging by the Hand would also probably attract Matt’s scumbag of a mentor – Stick. That would truly be the icing on the poisoned cake.

Foggy absently tapped his mug. _One thing at a time_ , he thought. First, Matt had to wake up.


	26. Client confidentiality

Worried about the consequences of another potential seizure following the drugging, the doctors sedated Matt to the point where he slept uninterrupted through the night – alien mask and all. Matt was visibly cranky when he woke up the next morning to find the bulky mask strapped to his face. As soon as it was removed and his face was wiped of sweat and sleep, he croaked out, “Fog, why?”

“Just wait till they finish cleaning you up, buddy,” Foggy said, wanting to retell the story without the presence of medical staff. He hovered beside the bed as the staff checked Matt over. Impatient, Foggy blurted out the story as soon as the last nurse had left. Matt listened in silence, his face giving nothing away.

Foggy finished his recap and it was followed by a lengthy silence. Eventually he said, “Matt, are you okay?”

Matt rubbed his nose, withdrawing quickly when it hurt.

Foggy winced. “What’s wrong?”

“M’nose. This,” Matt pointed at the nasal cannula. “Hurts – the air.”

“I’m sorry,” Foggy said. “Um, do you want me to get someone? Maybe they have a solution.” Silently, Foggy was rejoicing – not because of Matt’s pain of course, but because he expressed the problem verbally. The words were slow and halting, but they were there.

Matt shook his head. “Who?”

“I don’t know. I think it was Doctor Patterson this morning-”

Matt grabbed at his top sheet, bunching the fabric in his tight fist – a non-verbal expression Foggy knew all too well. As Foggy glanced around to check there was nothing throwable within Matt’s arm reach, Matt tried again, “ _no, who_ …?”

“Oh, the person who drugged you? They haven’t caught them yet.”

“They…hmm…” Matt frowned as the next word wouldn’t come. “They try again.”

“Don’t worry about that. There’s someone guarding the unit. No one’s getting in or out - although Danny somehow got in.” Foggy scratched his head. How did Danny get in? He snapped back to the present, saying, “Um, yeah, so Danny stayed here last night just in case. I’m not so good at the kung fu stuff,” Foggy chuckled. “I suggested he go home this morning though. I don’t know how he did it, but drawing the drugs out of you completely tuckered him out.”

“No. They…” Matt paused, searching for the word, “ngh… they found me.”

“You mean the people running around drugging people? Do you know who they are? Do you remember something?”

Matt tipped his head back into the pillow, frustrated at his inability to communicate effectively.

Foggy fidgeted as he waited for Matt to clarify what he meant. Eventually he prompted, “Matt?”

Matt shook his head and Foggy decided to leave it for now. Even though he’d slept more than 14 hours straight, Matt looked exhausted. His hair was sticking up all over the place with a lank strand covering one eye. His top half was naked apart from his bandaged wrists – casualties of his tendency to pull out IV cannulas when disoriented or anxious. He shivered and Foggy tossed him his pashmina, which Matt wrapped under his back and over his shoulders.

Foggy said, “do you want something to eat? I stashed yesterday’s fruit salad because I’m a hoarder. They trash it otherwise… such a waste.” He held the cup up to get a better look. “Hmm… the melon looks a bit mushy,” Foggy said, pulling off the lid and taking a whiff. “Smells okay.”

Matt reached for the cup, took a cautious sniff then speared a piece of green melon. It might have looked mushy around the edges, but it was crunchy in the middle and almost tasteless, even to him. He took a few pieces then offered it back to Foggy. “You have some,” he said, wiggling the cup. His words were clearer, more confident than even only a few minutes beforehand.

“What’s it like?” Foggy asked.

“Like… winter fruit,” Matt replied. “Not ripe, but okay.”

Foggy smiled. _Now_ the words were coming.

 

By midday, it was clear that while Matt was still lethargic, he wasn't having quite as much trouble finding words. Unfortunately, the improvement in speech also meant that he was subject to dozens of questions from police and medical personnel, who not only wanted to know about the previous night’s drugging, but also Matt’s first-hand account of the taser incident.

“I don’t remember,” Matt said to the person in charge of investigating the events of the previous evening. “P-please leave. I’m tired.” He waved a hand in Foggy’s direction in a silent request for help.

Foggy chimed in, “Officer, um-“

“Detective Stewart.”

“Detective Stewart, I know this is important, and no one wants the person who drugged Matt caught more than I do – well maybe Matt does, but you get the idea…” Foggy tried to collect his train of thought. “We both want the coward caught, but Matt’s tired and sick and he needs to rest. You have my word that the moment he remembers something, we’ll contact you.”

The officer looked frustrated. “As soon as he remembers,” he said firmly.

“ _If_ he remembers,” Foggy returned. “The doctor explained the impact of seizures on memory. That’s unlikely to change just because you want it to.”

The officer shut his notebook with a snap, making Matt wince. “Sorry,” Detective Stewart said, cringing at Matt’s reaction. “Get better soon, Mr Murdock.”

As soon as the detective had left, Foggy said, “can I get you some food?”

To Foggy’s surprise, Matt said, “yeah, thanks. No-not too heavy.”

Smiling, Foggy ran down to the health food store opposite the hospital to get Matt a salad. He returned just as Claire was exiting Matt’s room. She muttered, “it’s never simple with that guy,” as she passed.

As he approached the bed, Foggy whispered to Matt, “what did you tell Claire?”

Matt shrugged and held out his hand for the salad.

“White bean and quinoa,” Foggy said, wrinkling his nose. “Plus I got you a banana smoothie… with extra stuff – can’t remember what – they just said it was healing. It’s probably a scam. Oh well.”

Matt’s mouth twitched. “Thanks,” he said, eagerly tucking into the salad container. Under Foggy’s watchful eye, Matt finished more than half the giant serve of salad and half the smoothie before lying back in bed with a satisfied groan. He gestured at the smoothie. “Do you want-?”

Foggy looked at him suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re all done?”

Matt nodded, so Foggy polished off the rest of the cup. No point wasting an overpriced drink (with ‘extra stuff’).

Hovering, Foggy said, “uh, do you need help going to the bathroom or something?”

“No,” Matt said, angling his head away. “I went when…” He waved his hand at the salad in lieu of words.

“Ah. Did Claire help you? Or is that why she-”

“No,” Matt said crisply, cutting Foggy’s speculations short.

After a minute’s awkward silence, Foggy said, “do you want me to read something – or I could find you a podcast.”

Matt shook his head.

“You just want to sit here doing nothing?”

Matt shrugged. Foggy rolled his eyes before pulling out his phone, scrolling through the latest news. There was no mention of Matt’s in-hospital drugging, despite the media attention surrounding the tasing. “They must be keeping the break in hush hush,” Foggy said to Matt, still scrolling through the search results.

When there was no response, Foggy glanced at Matt. He’d found the furry ball Danny gave him, and was carding his fingers through the fine strands. "What's this?" he asked Foggy.

"Dunno. Danny got it for you. He thought you’d like the texture."

"Soft," Matt said. "Rabbit."

"Ew, really?"

Matt ignored Foggy’s comment. "How's Daisy?"

"She's fine. Missing you. Karen can bring her in this afternoon if you’d like. We've been bringing her in every afternoon. Do you remember?"

Matt nodded. 

Foggy swallowed. "It's hard to know. I-I thought maybe you weren't all there."

Matt rubbed his eyes. "Was tired. Still am."

"You could only speak a few words. Now you can speak – I dunno, you seem to have more words than yesterday. Quite a few more."

Matt picked at the blanket, picking an already large hole larger.

Foggy sighed. "Look, I know you're still mad about Danny, but I think he helped far beyond just the drugs. Don't you think?"

"I'm a…” Matt swallowed, trying to find the words. “I’m a s-sitting duck in here. Drugged… f-fisted-"

"Ew, don't put it like that."

Matt looked confused, and Foggy said tentatively, “you do know what fisted means… i-in popular culture, I mean?”

Matt paused. “Come in contact with a fist,” he ventured, before shrugging and mumbling, “or something.”

Foggy raised his eyebrows. For a nighttime crime fighter, Matt had some surprising gaps in knowledge. “There are other – um never mind – m-maybe a discussion for another day,” Foggy stuttered, “just- er, maybe don’t use the term too like that in front of anyone else.”

Matt sighed and shifted the pillow behind his head.

"Danny helped you, Matt,” Foggy said delicately. “I know you might feel vulnerable, but there’s a police officer outside your door making sure that there’s no repeat of last night. There are so many people who want to help you, who _are_ helping you. Just accept it."

"Your mom came," Matt said as a diversion.

"Yeah, she adores you. Oh! There's more of her homemade custard in the fridge if you want it."

Matt perked up. "Yeah, thanks."

Foggy jumped up and fetched the custard from the patient fridge before Matt could change his mind (or fall asleep).

 

Foggy promised to watch over the jittery Matt as he had a post-custard snooze. He was understandably nervous about letting down his guard, but his lethargy was such that it was near impossible stay awake. He seemed to be getting much better though. There was no doubt that Matt’s speech had been improving every day since he’d come off the ventilator, so it was possible that today’s dramatic improvement in communication was just part of Matt’s natural healing. Yet there was a part of Foggy that wondered if Danny’s ‘chi rebalancing’ – or whatever it was – had played a part. Foggy silently hoped that Danny’s intervention had done more than just suck out the drugs in Matt’s system – perhaps even cured Matt of this crazy run of twice or even thrice-daily seizures. Of course, the seizure Matt experienced that afternoon soon put an end to Foggy’s dream.

Although Matt woke up tired and irritable, he managed to get up for the promised visit from Daisy. A small entourage comprising Foggy, police guard and nurse wheeled Matt down to a vacant treatment room for the visit. For the first half hour, Matt cradled Daisy in his arms, whispering “good dog” to her over and over. Karen and Foggy attempted to conduct a conversation nearby, leaving Matt to his oddly intimate moment with the dog. Daisy eventually had enough. She squirmed out of Matt’s grasp, her claw catching on Matt’s IV tubing as she leapt off his lap. Oblivious to Matt’s gasp of shock, she shook out her pent-up energy before running to Karen.

Foggy rushed over. “Are you okay, Matt?”

Matt nodded, but his facial expression indicated otherwise.

“I’ve been taking her for daily walks, Matt,” Karen said, crouching to pat Daisy before pushing her in Matt’s direction. Daisy ran straight back to Matt, jumping onto his lap and nudging her head under his hand for a pat. Karen continued, “she’s made friends with a dachshund around the corner. They even went on a playdate a few days ago.”

Matt felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of Karen taking Daisy places, making new friends, going to the park… but he swallowed and gave Karen a small smile. “It-its name?”

“The dachshund? His name is Chorizo.”

Foggy snorted. Seeing Matt’s confused expression, Foggy explained, “you’ve probably never seen a sausage dog, Matt. They weren’t popular with the hipsters of Hell’s Kitchen back then.”

“There were… no hipsters,” Matt pointed out, a small smile finally breaking through.

“This is true,” Foggy said, nodding. It was possibly the first conversation that they’d had since the tasing that wasn’t about Matt’s health or the drugging or other administrative matters. “Do you remember when the first frozen yoghurt place opened? That’s when we knew it was gentrifying.”

“Lines ‘round the…” Matt said slowly, coming to a halt as he stumbled on a word.

“Yeah, lines round the block,” Foggy finished.

Karen laughed. “Over frozen yoghurt?”

Matt pulled a face and shrugged as if to say _I don’t get it either_.

The banter continued, mostly Karen and Foggy reminiscing over the 90s with the occasional word or two from Matt. None of them wanted it to end. For this brief and glorious moment they could pretend they weren’t in a hospital treatment room with a seriously ill Matt and a mysterious poisoner on the loose.

Eventually, there was a knock at the door: one of the nurses collecting Matt to take him back to his room. The police officer who had been waiting outside the treatment room trailed behind Matt, the nurse and Foggy, chewing lazily on some gum with his mouth open. Normally the sound would have driven Matt crazy, but with his hearing still muted due to the seizures and medication, the officer was easy to identify and locate from afar. As far as Matt could tell, this particular officer was one of the more diligent ones and apart from the trip downstairs to guard the meeting with Daisy, he had barely moved from his usual seat outside the HDU during his shift. Matt still felt like a sitting duck, but at least there was an obstacle.

Foggy whispered, “I’ll join you in a second,” to Matt as they entered the unit. Matt heard Foggy start up a conversation with the officer. “Any news?”

“We can’t share that information,” he replied. “And that’s even if we’re told. We don’t get told anything.”

Matt rubbed his ears. Normally he’d be able to hear their heartbeats from down the short corridor, but not today.

As soon as Foggy reentered the room, he asked Matt, “do you think he was telling the truth when he said he doesn’t know?”

“Dunno,” Matt said. He reached for the table, searching for a glass of water.

“Here,” Foggy said, pouring a cup and nudging it into Matt’s hand. “Are your senses still screwed?”

“Pretty much,” Matt replied. “But can hear your heart when you’re this close.”

“And here I was thinking I could lead you astray,” Foggy joked.

Matt closed his eyes, his face impassive. He snuggled into the pillows and pulled his pashmina around his neck as a protection from the coarse hospital linen.

 

* * *

 

By the following day, it was decided that Matt was well enough to be transferred out of the HDU. Late afternoon, he was wheeled down to the regular neurology ward where he was greeted with enthusiasm by Elsa. Once he was settled in his private room, Matt said, "you should go home, Foggy."

"It's cool,” Foggy shrugged. “This is much nicer than the HDU."

"As nice as home? I-I feel guilty."

"Everything fills you with guilt, Matt."

"So help me out," Matt joked.

Foggy shrugged. "Okay. I'll get us some food and then home for the evening. Any preferences?"

Matt winced. He still didn't have much of an appetite and the idea of eating was exhausting. How to explain that to Foggy though. He picked at the sticky residue left on his chest by the heart monitor that had finally been detached. It always took days and a lot of work to come off completely.

Foggy sighed. Matt always fidgeted when he wanted to say something difficult. Seeing he was getting nowhere, Foggy suggested, "soup?"

Matt brightened a little. "Yeah – uh, the pho place- near?"

"Done," Foggy said.

As Foggy left the room, Matt rolled over and pulled the blankets high over his shoulders. He couldn't believe that he could feel this tired. He readjusted the oxygen tubing so that it didn't dig into his cheek quite so much. By the time Foggy had returned with the two soups, Matt had fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

"Daredevil," a female voice at the end of his bed said, pulling Matt from his post-soup sleep.

Matt stayed very still. He tried to remember if he'd met this woman. Not only was her voice unfamiliar, but her scent was unusual. Surely he'd remember a detail like that.

"I know you're awake, _Daredevil._ "

Matt rolled onto his back. "Who...” He cleared his throat. “Who are you?"

"Jessica Jones, PI."

Matt rubbed his eyes. "Never heard of you."

"Your friend, Foggy, asked me to look into the taser incident. I couldn't work out why a mild-mannered blind lawyer would get drugged, tasered, and then drugged again in the same week. Now I know."

"Don't know what you're talking about." Matt considered pressing the call button. He should have felt more threatened, particularly after the drugging, but something told him to hear her out. It seemed absurd, but she didn’t seem to be lying about Foggy. But that was absurd. Foggy would never risk revealing his double identity by hiring a PI of all people.

"He didn't tell you that he hired me," Jessica concluded.

Matt tried to keep his face as neutral as possible. He wanted her to reveal her cards first.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone you're Daredevil."

Matt hissed, "stop it."

Jessica smirked. "Client confidentiality."

"Isn't _Foggy_ your client?"

"You both are. Foggy made that quite clear."

"He would never tell – he would never..."

"So you admit it."

"No.”

"I don't need you to admit it. I know who you are. But it would have been nice to get the heads up."

"Discuss it with Foggy. I have nothing to do with this,” Matt said. “H-how did you get in here anyway? Ward’s guarded.” He reached for the call button.

“Wait,” Jessica said. Matt paused.

Matt narrowed his eyes. “I need to go to the bathroom. Despite your…” He cleared his throat. “I can’t even stand alone, let alone...” Matt waved his hand as the word on the tip of his tongue failed to come. His chest tightened with frustration and he forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths just to calm down.

Jessica rolled her eyes. “I can carry you if you want.”

Matt snorted. “You can’t carry me.”

Jessica marched over to Matt’s bed and went to scoop him up.

Matt swiped at Jessica’s arm. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying you.”

“What, on your own?”

“I’m strong.”

“Not that strong.”

“Want a bet?” Jessica swooped in and picked up a squirming Matt. “You know it’ll be easier if you don’t fight me,” she said, carrying him towards the bathroom bridal style while kicking Matt’s IV pole in front of them.

“Let me… _down_ ,” he huffed, aiming a kick at a notoriously painful nerve in her thigh. She moved her leg in time and shifted position, holding him with outstretched arms away from her body. He didn’t know if he was just incredibly weak, or she was incredibly strong, but he was unable to escape from her grip. Was he about to get drugged again? He tried an elbow, but she dodged that as well. Was she telling the truth about Foggy hiring her? Never… but her heart didn’t lie. But…but…

Just as Matt was catastrophizing himself into a panic, she deposited him in front of the toilet and stood back with her arms crossed.

Matt panted, “why did you do that?”

“You said you needed help,” she replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Matt didn’t hear a lie, which at least helped his panic. Before he could snap a reply, she added, “I’m not going to help you with anything else in here by the way.”

Matt scowled. “I can take it from here.”

“Call me when you’re done,” she called over her shoulder, closing the door behind her.

As soon as Matt flushed the toilet, Jessica called out, “you decent?”

Matt pressed the call button next to sink. There was no way he was going to be carried back to bed by the freakishly strong stranger. Barely daring to move, he waited until he heard a nurse enter his private room. After a brief exchange between the nurse and Jessica, there was a sharp rap at the door. “Matt? Are you okay in there?”

“Ye-“ Matt cleared his throat. “Yes, uh, could I get some help returning to bed?” He ducked his head, ashamed of his weakness. To Matt’s chagrin, the nurse didn’t help him directly; instead, she pulled a walker into the room. He didn’t say anything as he leaned heavily on the arm rests. He could feel Jessica’s eyes following his every step and he gritted his teeth, hating every second of the short trip back to bed.

The nurse looked curiously at Jessica as she helped Matt back into bed. She could sense the hostility emanating from Matt. “Visiting hours are over,” the nurse said to Jessica.

“In five minutes,” Jessica said, not looking at her watch.

“We’re done here,” Matt said. “Goodbye, er...”

“Jessica. Jessica Jones.” And with that, the PI strode out the door.

 

* * *

 

Foggy was sitting on the couch with Daisy, a beer, a bag of chips and his beloved video game controller when he received a text message from Matt: “Foggy, we need to talk.” 

Foggy raised his eyebrows. _We need to talk_ was never followed by good news. He held his phone for a minute, not wanting to face whatever bombshell Matt was about to throw at him, but also loathe to ignore a message from Matt in his condition. Five minutes passed and Foggy was still holding the phone, deliberating. Daisy licked his hand. She was probably just pleased to be home after a week and a half at Karen’s, but Foggy took it as a sign.

“Jessica Jones,” Matt said on picking up.

Foggy bit his lip. Of course. “What about her?”

“Come on, Foggy,” Matt groaned. “She just paid me a visit. Told me you hired her.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t overreact.”

“To the fact that she knows who I am?”

Foggy ventured, “Matthew Murdock?”

“No,” Matt growled, “the other me.”

There was a lengthy pause on Foggy’s end. “Oh,” he eventually squeaked. “Uh, can I call you back?” Foggy hung up before Matt could even answer, dialing Jessica’s number before Matt pressed redial.

“Hi, Foggy Nelson,” Jessica said in greeting.

“I got a call from Matt. He-he said you know-”

“Look, Foggy, I don’t really care who he is. I just care about finding out why the guy was shot by a couple of tasers _as I was employed to do_. Of course, my job would have been a lot easier if you’d just told me from the outset-”

“It’s not relevant.”

“How do you know?”

“Uh, I just-”

“Exactly, you don’t.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“Even if I wanted to,” Jessica replied.

“Oh, okay. Uh, so have you found anything?”

“I found out that my client has a night job that would make him the number target of any of the city’s criminals if they connected the two identities.”

“Right,” Foggy said meekly. It seemed so obvious when Jessica said it out loud. How had he got so deep in Matt’s secret identity bullshit that he’d convinced himself that Jessica didn’t need to know about Daredevil? “Um, anything else?”

“Not yet. As I said, this would have been a lot quicker if-”

“I know, I know,” Foggy said. “Look, can you stay away from Matt for a bit. He-he might need to – uh, he tends to overreact.”

“Ergh. I’ll call you when I find something,” Jessica replied, hanging up without saying goodbye.

“Thanks,” Foggy said to the dial tone.

Foggy’s phone vibrated. “Call me,” Matt’s text message read.

“Shit, shit, shit” Foggy muttered under his breath. He tossed the phone onto the couch and headed for the bathroom instead, turning on the shower to drown out the vibrations of his phone and the racing thoughts in his head. As the water sluiced over his head, Foggy considered all his options, all the possible ways things could go wrong, and Matt... shit, would Matt try and escape the hospital? It was the type of thing a panicky, reactive Matt would do. At that thought, Foggy turned off the shower, and raced into the living room. Six missed calls. Just as he unlocked the phone, it rang with the seventh.

“Hi, Matt,” Foggy said, trying to sound cool and collected.

“Why didn’t you pick up?”

“Oh, I had to call Jessica. Don’t worry, it’s all sorted?”

“All _sorted_?” Matt squawked. “Do you realize – do you...” Matt trailed off.

“Matt, is everything okay?”

“Foh, I...” Matt mumbled something.

Foggy recognized the signs of Matt’s pre-seizure confusion. “Hey, Matt, are you lying down?”

“Mmm...”

“Can you buzz the nurse? I think you’re about to have a seizure.”

“No-no, I...” There was a groan and then nothing.

“Shit,” Foggy said, hanging up and dialing the direct line to the neurology ward to tell them his suspicions, which were immediately confirmed. Foggy considered heading into the hospital to be there when Matt woke up, but he was exhausted and had many many things to think through. But first, he had to call Claire. She was the one who had vouched for Jessica in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feel free to comment. I <3 comments!


	27. The Malaise

The next morning after the PI drama, Foggy turned up with Daisy to find Matt sitting up, wide awake, and waiting. He was fiddling with the section of the oxygen tube that snaked across his chest, rolling it back and forth between his fingers. He didn’t look happy.

Foggy took a deep breath. "Before you get mad again, can I tell you what I've arranged for the day?" Foggy strategically released Daisy’s leash and she took a running jump at the bed, leaping up onto Matt's lap. While Matt was momentarily distracted, Foggy continued, "you remember how we helped the Ramirez family out with that tenancy problem? Well, their neighbor - Doris, she insisted I call her - recognized me downstairs. She's a volunteer here and has offered to take Daisy down to the street every couple of hours to pee while I’m at the office. And then Elsa said that she was more than happy to count each trip as a kind of refresh button so the usual two hour dog visiting limit is essentially waived." Foggy paused, waiting and hoping for a positive response.

"You employed a PI to investigate me," Matt said quietly.

Foggy groaned. "Not _you_. I asked her to investigate the _tasing_. At the time of engagement, you weren't speaking, people were asking questions... you weren't there, Matt. I didn’t know when _or if_ you were ever going to recover.” When Matt didn’t respond, Foggy added, “plus Claire said we can trust her."

Matt buried his nose in Daisy's ears, but the hiss of the nasal cannula gave her a fright and she pulled away, shaking her head in protest. He clicked his fingers at Daisy, who dutifully returned to his lap. With one hand buried in Daisy’s fur, Matt sunk back into the pillows with a small groan. “Who-who is she, Fog? She p-” Matt paused, not wanting to admit to the humiliation of being carried to the bathroom against his will. “She’s strong. _Really_ strong.”

"Oh… yeah, Danny told me she was experimented on by some evil corporation or something. It made her superhuman strong – kinda like Luke Cage I think. They all know each other by the way – Jessica, Luke, Danny, Claire... Jessica already knows about Danny’s fist or whatever. She knows about Luke of course, and now I guess she knows about you.” Foggy knew he was rambling, but he needed to get everything out. “But you know what? She doesn't care who you are - _plural_ , and it’s all confidential." When Matt didn't respond, Foggy said, "I'm sorry you’re upset, Matt, but I just didn't know what to do. I needed to do something and this seemed like the best way to protect you and Karen and-and all of us."

Foggy stared at Matt trying to decipher what the silent act meant. “Matt? Say something.” But Matt just lay there, unmoving.

Matt could feel the anxiety building in his chest at the thought of being alone for the day. He knew that Foggy would stay if Matt shared his feelings, but he felt guilty even entertaining the idea. Jessica had somehow got around the security posted at the entrance to the ward. It evidently wasn’t hard, and if he was still being targeted… Matt scrunched his fingers into Daisy’s fur.

Foggy sighed, “well, I might head to the office. I’ve got a meeting with the Brownes – do-do you remember?” Matt’s face remained blank so Foggy decided to steer away from work talk.

Foggy placed a small cloth bag on the bedside table. “I brought some dog treats and a muffin. Walnut and date I think…” Foggy petered off, hoping that Matt would interrupt with something, anything.

“Thanks, Fog,” Matt replied, once again burying his head in Daisy’s fur. She didn’t pull away this time.

Foggy had expected yelling, objects being thrown across the room, maybe even a few tears, but not this, well, this _ambivalence_. Foggy gave a confused shake of the head and left Matt and Daisy to it.

 

Matt knew that he should be more angry, more anxious about the fact that Foggy had hired a PI. Yet another person knew his secret. And yet, like everything else in his life right now, he just didn’t seem to care all that much. It all seemed so… inconsequential. It was hard enough caring enough to eat, let alone think about consequences to this latest breach in confidence.

Closing his eyes, Matt curled around Daisy and listened to Foggy’s footsteps disappear into the elevator at the end of the corridor. If he had to be in hospital, at least he had Daisy. He stroked her back and she gave a contented sigh and rested her chin on Matt’s bare arm.

He was woken by Elsa gently shaking his arm. Still on edge, he startled, pulling away while simultaneously raising his fists to his chest in defense.

“Matt, I didn’t mean to give you a fright,” Elsa said softly. “I tried just saying your name, but you were so deep in sleep. I-I just wanted to let you know you have a physical therapy session shortly. I thought you might appreciate a shower beforehand to perk you up.” When Matt didn’t move, she added, “plus I have good news: the doctor wants to take you off supplemental oxygen for now. So no more nasal cannula.”

Matt groaned and pulled the blanket back up and over his ears, barely registering Elsa’s words. It was the soft fleece blanket Karen had given him many hospital visits ago – perfect for muffling the sounds of the hospital. Daisy used the opportunity to swoop in and give Matt’s hand a lick. He gave a small yelp of fright. He’d forgotten about Daisy.

“Matt, I’m just going to remove the cannula,” Elsa said, a note of concern creeping into her voice. She knew just how much Matt hated the oxygen and yet he didn’t seem even vaguely interested in its removal. She gently pulled at the tubing, but it was partially stuck under his head. Eventually Matt rolled onto his back with a groan, freeing his other ear from the tubing.

As Elsa put the cannula aside, she said, “I know you’re tired, but it’s important that you keep this appointment. You want to get back to your old strength don’t you?”

“Don’t want,” he grumbled. “M’tired.”

“Do you need to visit the bathroom?”

Matt reached for Daisy, pulling her close to his chest. He did need to, but he didn’t want to. It required getting out of bed. It required effort and movement. He closed his eyes.

“I can help you take a shower if you’d like. You always feel better after a shower.”

Matt could smell the sour odor of nearly two week’s worth of minimal washing. He tried to imagine the warm water in his hair, the massage of drops over his sore shoulders. “Okay,” he finally mumbled.

“Excellent,” she said, pulling back the sheets. Matt wrinkled his nose. He definitely needed that shower.

Matt’s fatigue was such that he still wasn’t able to stand unassisted. Everyone had told him repeatedly that using a walker wasn’t something to be ashamed of and that some of his strength would probably return soon, but it didn’t make Matt feel any less humiliated. His cheeks blushed red as Elsa fetched the walker from across the room.

“No,” he said. “Please, I want to…” He made to get up, slithering over the side of the bed and gasping as his legs gave way. Elsa caught him before he crumpled completely to the floor.

“Oops a daisy,” she said. Daisy perked her ears up at the sound of her name. “Are you sure you don’t want the walker, Matt?”

He shook his head and shifted some of his weight back onto his wobbly legs.

Elsa sighed. “Okay, but let me help you.” She hooked one arm under Matt’s shoulder and moved the IV pole towards him so that he could grip onto it with his other arm.

“Ready?”

The trek across the room to the bathroom was slow and tiring. Matt had hoped that the effort spent just getting to the bathroom would be worth it, but it ended up being far from a relaxing shower experience. It turned out he needed help with everything: undressing, waterproofing the bandaged IV cannulas, not to mention the oddly painful task of shampooing his hair. It turned out he was too weak to even raise his arms above his head, making washing his own hair impossible.

Elsa left him to enjoy the last few minutes alone while she went to find a clean t-shirt and boxers. He hung his head as the water sluiced over his head and back, licking the wayward drips that dripped down his nose and onto his mouth. He could hear the clink of Daisy’s collar as she moved around his bed, twisting round and round as she tried to make an optimum blanket nest. He smiled at the thought.

Elsa was right. By the time he was dressed, he was feeling a hundred times better. As they made the slow trek back to bed, Elsa distracted him with small talk. “You know, I saw you outside the courthouse a few weeks back. I almost didn’t recognize you in your suit and tie. You look very dapper.”

“You-you mean I don’t look dapper in hospital?” He mimicked her Irish pronunciation of the word dapper, flashing a small smile as he did so.

“I walked right into that one,” she laughed. “Sorry, I just meant-”

“I know,” Matt said, cutting her apology short.

As he climbed back onto the freshly changed bed, his moves were more fluid and graceful than before. Elsa smiled at the change. “Well, Matt, do you think you can face physical therapy now?”

“The shower was more than enough,” Matt grumbled. “M’tired.” He hung his head as if to emphasize the point.

“What about it I told you Daisy was allowed to accompany you? I rang down earlier and they okayed it.”

Daisy leapt up and gave a small spin as if she knew exactly what had just been said.

“See? Daisy wouldn’t mind some exercise,” Elsa said, crouching a little to see the expression on Matt’s lowered face.

Matt could feel his opposition being worn away. Daisy gave another timely spin. The young, energetic dog was obviously rearing to do something other than lie in bed. Matt begrudgingly said yes, reaching for his glasses as he did so.

Dressed in fresh sweatpants, Matt was helped into a wheelchair by Elsa and the orderly sent up to fetch Matt. Elsa called to the excited dog, “come on Daisy, hop aboard the noble chariot.” Daisy leapt from the bed onto Matt’s lap. Her tail drummed against Matt’s stomach as they started off towards the physical therapy department. As the orderly pushed them through the labyrinthine building, she crept forward until she was balanced on one of Matt’s knees, snout raised and looking utterly regal.

 

Despite Matt’s reluctance to engage in physical therapy, he had to give the staff credit for doing some homework. “I hear you like boxing,” the physio, Ian, said as soon as they’d finished introductions.

Matt raised one eyebrow over his glasses.

Ian clarified, “your injured wrist – your treatment notes say that it was a boxing injury.”

Matt wasn’t aware of his official records. He tried to remember what Foggy had told him about the whole tasing affair. He knew he had grazed knuckles, which Foggy had told the officers was probably due to boxing. “I told them you’d had a bad day and that sometimes you go a bit too hard,” Foggy had explained. “It’s not _un_ true. I just left out a few details,” Foggy had added with a sly grin.

Matt rolled his wrist around. It didn’t feel particularly sore – no more than the rest of his body at least. “It feels better. Maybe a bit stiff.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to put you in the ring today,” Ian joked.

“I use bags,” Matt mumbled.

“Sorry, I missed that.”

Matt cleared his throat and said in a louder voice, “I don’t spar with people. I-I’m blind.”

Ian smiled. “That needn’t stop you. I know blind skiers, blind marathon runners, blind soccer players. One of the guys who consults for the neurology department is blind, but I’ve even seen him ride a bike.”

Matt scowled. He’d heard about that guy a dozen times. Batman, they called him. Doctor Bevan and Foggy were both obsessed with the bike riding genius and kept bugging Matt to meet him.

Ian continued, undeterred by Matt’s obvious lack of enthusiasm. “Let’s aim high, Matt. We’ll make a boxer of you yet. But first, we might just get you up and walking on your own. We need to assess whether it’s fatigue, or whether there’s some other issue we need to address.” He gave Matt an encouraging pat on the arm. “Let’s get started.”

Matt rolled his eyes behind his glasses – a move missed by Ian. How pathetic he’d become if his aim was just to walk unassisted. He reluctantly complied with Ian’s exercises until he was surprised by a small yip from Daisy. She clawed at Matt’s sweatpants. “Uh,” Matt said, trying to get Ian’s attention, but Ian had disappeared to get another biro to replace his broken one. “Uh, help,” Matt said, trying to attract the attention of one of the other therapists across the room.

Ian heard Matt’s call for help and hurried over at the sight of Matt’s obvious distress. Matt managed to blurt out, “Daisy – she says – Daisy – I’m gonna have a seizure.”

It took Ian a moment to realize what Matt was saying. “I didn’t realize she was a seizure alert dog,” he said. “It’s okay. We’ll get you on the ground, Matt.” He helped Matt onto the soft mat on the floor. “Can I remove the glasses?”

Matt seized before he could respond.

 

* * *

 

Matt yawned and shifted irritably in the bed. Even naps were tiring. He scratched at his nose. The nasal cannula was back. He thought he’d got rid of it. He pulled it from his face, wincing as it caught on his left ear.

“Good afternoon, Matt,” Elsa said, chipper as always.

Matt gave a grunt in return.

“You had a seizure downstairs followed by a bit of a kip,” she explained. “You might have a sore mouth – you bit down on your tongue I’m afraid.”

Matt licked his lips, tasting the traces of blood.

“Daisy warned you about the seizure.” She gave Daisy a pat on the head. “Didn’t you, Daisy,” Elsa said to the dog. “Such a good girl.” Daisy gave a shiver of enthusiasm, wagging her tail so that it drummed against Matt’s blanketed thigh.

“I might put his cannula back just for now,” she said, looping the tubing back around Matt’s ears. “It’s just temporary. You were having some trouble breathing after the seizure. The doctor wants to make sure you get enough oxygen. It’s not good for your brain otherwise.” Her explanation was getting a little too cutesy for Matt’s liking. He scowled, but refrained from pulling away.

“There’s some lunch here if you’d like. You missed the hot meal, but I got them to bring up some sandwiches – something light.” She poked at the plastic packaging. “I think there’s ham and tomato and carrot and… hmmm not sure what it is exactly.”

Matt gave a grumble of discontent and pulled his fleece blanket up to his chin.

“Well, they’re here if you want them,” Elsa continued, unfazed.

 

* * *

 

Matt woke to the sound of heels clip clopping into his room. He clenched his fists under the blanket, readying for an attack. Sensing Matt’s alarm, Daisy sat up straight, a low rumble in her chest. Through the whoosh of the oxygen being pumped into his nostrils, he caught the familiar scent of… he tried to place the smell, but his brain was still fuzzy post-seizure. The heels paused at the end of the bed and there was the familiar whoosh of a ponytail flicking one way and then the next. _Kirsten McDuffie_ , Matt finally realized. _Shit_. Talking to the assistant DA was about the last thing he wanted to do.

Kirsten took another step towards the bed and Daisy slowly crept towards the end of the bed, unsure as to whether this woman was friend or foe based on Matt’s reaction. Undeterred, Kirsten gave her a tentative pat and Daisy immediately melted, wagging her tail wildly and pawing at Kirsten’s hand for more pats.

Matt pretended to shift in sleep, rolling over so that he was facing away from Kirsten. She narrowed her eyes, not quite buying Matt’s act. She placed something on Matt’s bedside table next to the untouched sandwiches and walked around to the other side of the bed, peering out the dirty window before turning back to Matt. His hair had flopped over his eyes so that just his nose and blood-tinged mouth were visible over the blankets. Ever an attention seeker, Daisy leaped off the bed and jumped up against Kirsten’s stockinged legs. “No, no, no, down,” Kirsten whispered. “Good dog,” she said when Daisy complied. After a minute’s silent inaction, Kirsten grabbed Daisy and plonked her back on the bed. She took one last look at Matt and tiptoed out the room.

Barely daring to breathe, Matt listened to the clip clops down the hall. “Thanks for that, Bob. I owe you,” Kirsten said to the gum-chewing guard. Matt rolled his eyes. What was the point of having security on the ward if people could just talk their way in?

Once Kirsten was safely in the elevator, Matt raised his bed to an upright position. He was beyond tired, but he couldn’t afford to sleep. Eyes open unnaturally wide, he sat there pinching his hand every time he felt his head start to loll sideways. It wouldn’t hurt to close his tired and dry eyes, he eventually decided. And perhaps the bed could be lowered a bit – for his aching back, of course. Daisy padded over to Matt’s hip and dug a nest into the blankets, resting her head on his thigh with a contented sigh. Within minutes, Matt was asleep.

* * *

 

The next time Matt woke up it was to a high-pitched squawk of “Daisy dog!”

There was a sharp bump against bed, followed by a hissed, “Julia Carpenter, get off Matt’s bed _immediately_.”

Matt struggled awake. “Wha-”

“Sorry, Matt,” Elizabeth said, hurrying forward to pull Julia from Matt’s feet. “We thought we’d say hi. I wasn’t expecting Julia to behave so disrespectfully though.”

Matt pushed himself up the bed. Foggy had said that he’d told the Carpenters to hold off until Matt was feeling a bit better. Matt assumed that he’d be consulted before the call was made. But then again, he also assumed he’d be consulted by security before visitors were allowed on the ward. So much for 24-hour protection.

He cleared his throat, “uh, I wasn’t-”

“Foggy said he’d tell us when you were ready for visitors,” Elizabeth interrupted, “but Jules had an appointment in the outpatient clinic downstairs and she’s been _desperate_ to see you so we thought we’d pop up and see if we could say hi… briefly.” She petered off as Matt’s silence made her doubt the decision. “I-I’m sorry for waking you. We can go.”

Julia squealed as Daisy licked her hand from the edge of the bed. “Daisy keeps licking me,” she laughed. “Can I pick her up?”

“Uh, sure,” Matt croaked.

“Actually, I think we’d better head off, Jules,” Elizabeth interrupted, all too conscious of Matt’s rumpled hair, slightly bloodied lips and pallid skin.

Julia whined,  “oh, mom, _please_ can we stay? Matt’s been away for ages. _Ages!_ ”

“Sorry, Matt,” Elizabeth said. “How are you feeling?”

“Uh, better,” Matt said. His voice was low and croaky from sleep. He felt for the glass of water usually kept on the table next to his bed.

“Matt, can I help? What can I get you?”

“There should be water… somewhere.” He forced a smile as Elizabeth handed him the cup. “Thanks.”

“Do you know how long you’ll have to stay in here?”

Matt coughed into the cup, so that the water splashed back into his face. Not caring the least about manners, Matt wiped his mouth with his wrist. “No, not yet.”

“I’m sorry to hear what happened.”

Matt just nodded. It was the same thing over and over again without any change or action ( _Sorry… isn’t it terrible… society today… poor blind man…_ ). He waited in silence, hoping that they’d take the hint.

“Matt, I made a new friend,” Julia said excitedly. “She’s blind, but not like us. She can see light. She can’t see much other than blobs, but she can tell night from day.”

Matt replied, “but you can-” He stumbled on the next word, taking a deep breath before continuing, “you-you can tell night from day. They sound and feel different.”

“Hmm I guess.” Julia sounded unconvinced. “Oh! Colleen taught me a new move.” There was a crash as Julia attempted to perform her new martial arts move, losing hold of her cane so that it fell to the floor.

Elizabeth didn’t miss Matt’s wince. “Alrighty, I think we really will head off this time. Come on, Jules.”

Julia whined, “why?” as her mother took her hand.

Keen to expedite the process, Matt said, “Julia, when I get out of here, I’ll teach you how to do a handstand. But you’ve gotta listen to your mom now. Deal?”

Julia scowled.

“Jules, say goodbye to Matt.”

“Goodbye to Matt,” Julia parroted, earning a sigh of exasperation from Elizabeth.

“Bye,” Matt croaked, sinking back into the pillows. Daisy returned to her favorite position next to Matt’s stomach, doing a couple of circles before settling down with a small contented groan.

As soon as the Carpenters were out of earshot, Matt buzzed for Elsa. “Do you have that sign still – the one that says do not disturb – or no visitors – or something.”

“Sure do. You not in the mood, or just tired?”

“Both. Uh, Foggy is fine to come in. Always is.”

Matt listened to Elsa’s footsteps as she fetched the sign, gently pulling the door closed as she affixed the sign to the outside. He was still too anxious to completely let his guard down by wearing his noise-cancelling earphones, so he just pulled Daisy closer to his chest, curling around her and shutting his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Foggy tiptoed across the room and eased himself into the armchair.

Matt rolled over. “Fog?”

“Hey Matt, I thought you were asleep,” Foggy said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Just resting.”

“I bumped into Father Lantom in the lobby. He said you weren’t up for visitors or something. But then Elsa gave me the okay. What’s going on?”

Matt inwardly cursed. He’d forgotten about his daily visit from his priest when he told Elsa to make an exception for Foggy alone.

“M’tired,” Matt replied.

“I know,” Foggy said. “Can I get you anything? A book? I could read? Have you eaten anything?”

Matt shook his head.

“You’re not bored?”

Matt was bored. There was no doubt about it, but he also had zero interest in any kind of book, activity, food… “M’tired,” Matt repeated.

“I’m tired is the new I’m fine,” Foggy joked. “Sorry,” he said on seeing Matt’s face. “Not funny.” After a period of silence, Foggy said, “I might take Daisy for a quick walk downstairs. She can pee and I’ll get us both some dinner. I’m guessing from the untouched sandwiches that you’re not interested in the hospital’s offerings.”

“Not hungry.”

“What about a chocolate? They look good.”

Matt frowned. “Huh?”

Foggy picked up the box on Matt’s bedside table and flipped it over to read out the flavors. “There are plenty of dark chocolate ones in here for you. Where did you get them?”

Matt thought back to Kirsten’s visit. He’d forgotten she’d placed something on the table. His senses were obviously off if he couldn’t even smell chocolate.

“I-I don’t remember,” Matt lied.

“No note,” Foggy said, returning to the box to the table. “Oh well, chocolate’s chocolate eh? Do you want one?”

“Mmm…no,” Matt mumbled. “Not hungry.”

“That’s cool. I get you a salad or something and you can eat it when you’re ready.” Foggy tried to keep his tone neutral, but he was worried about Matt. He knew the signs of a Matt Murdock depressive episode all too well. The malaise had well and truly set in.


	28. You have more to give

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has everyone seen the teaser trailer for DD3? I'm almost beside myself excited for the new series, but the trailer has me worried. I hope they don't go down the path of Shadowland. I loathed that series with a passion. I know a lot of speculation has been around Born Again, but I don't see how they'd do it. Matt's in a very different place at the end of the Defenders than he was at the beginning of Born Again. At the end of the Defenders, there's not much more to lose. I guess we'll find out soon enough.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this chapter of much hurt/comfort.

Daisy’s first full day keeping Matt company in hospital was arguably a success, and so for the rest of the working week, Foggy stuck to a routine of dropping Daisy off in the morning and returning after work in the evening. The dog was adored by the hospital helpers, which meant that there was no shortage of volunteers to take Daisy down to the street for regular pee breaks. It also helped that the ‘Matt Murdock fan club’ (as Foggy called it) had extended from his fellow church-goers to the group mostly elderly hospital volunteers. Apparently, Doris had told them all about the Gonzales case and Matt’s donation to the local library, which immediately made him ‘favorite patient’ amongst the group. Daisy’s proven record in seizure warnings also meant that she was given the official okay to stay with Matt in hospital all day. She happily accompanied Matt to all the various treatment sessions, from physical therapy to a brain injury group support meeting (the latter of which Matt was extremely unimpressed about).

When Foggy turned up after work on Friday to find Matt’s bed empty, he naturally panicked. But it turned out that Matt had fallen asleep in the support meeting room. His chair was in view of the neurology ward’s nurses’ station, so the nurses had just left him there after the support meeting had dispersed, considering it kinder than trying to wake him.

“We’ve been keeping an eye on him, but he’s been asleep longer than we expected. We should probably return him to his room,” one of them said.

“Do you want to do it?” another nurse asked Foggy.

“Uh, sure?” Foggy wasn’t quite sure why they were so reluctant to wake Matt. Sure, he was usually a bit crabby when woken prematurely, but that was about it.

When Foggy entered the room, Daisy leapt from the gap between Matt’s thigh and the arm of the padded chair. She jumped at Foggy, spinning a couple of times on the spot before jumping back onto the armchair. Matt stirred, instinctively reaching out to Daisy even though he was still half asleep.

“Hey Matty,” Foggy said in a near whisper.

Matt grunted a response, curling his right arm to his chest, but otherwise making no effort to move, let alone wake up.

“Hey Matt, do you want to go back to your room?” Matt didn’t respond, so Foggy repeated the question.

Eventually Foggy sighed, and said to the waiting nurse, “has this happened before?”

“Yeah, he’s slept through every meeting so far. But then again, he’s been spending most of his days asleep anyway. He’s pretty hard to wake, which is why-” the nurse gestured at Matt, who looked like he was deep in sleep again.

Foggy stared at Matt for a minute before trying again. This time he was more insistent, holding Matt’s hand while rubbing his other shoulder to try and get him to properly rouse. “Come on, Matty, it’s a Friday afternoon. I want to debrief with you. I brought celebratory noodles and everything.” When that didn’t work, Foggy added, “ _and_ I splurged on that special chocolate you like with the pistachios.”

Matt huffed in annoyance at the disturbance. It turned into a cough as his breath caught. He opened his eyes in alarm as he wheezed and struggled to catch his breath.

“I’ll get you a glass of water, Matt,” the nurse said, hurrying over to the refreshments table and returning with a small cup. As she handed Matt the cup, her hand brushed against his. “You feel a little warm,” she said, putting her hand to his forehead. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she reassured Foggy. She returned with the vitals trolley and proceeded to take Matt’s temperature and blood pressure.

“You’ve got a bit of a temperature, Matt,” the nurse said. “No wonder you’re feeling tired.”

“M’always tired,” Matt croaked. He closed his eyes, more than ready to go back to sleep.

“I’ll page your doctor, but first I want to get you back to bed, okay?”

Matt seemed unimpressed with the proposal. He made little attempt to hold his own weight when Foggy and the nurse hauled him to his feet, so the nurse grabbed the nearby wheelchair and they bundled Matt into the chair.

The first thing the doctor did was check Matt’s IV cannula sites for infection, but they were all clear.

“Do you have a sore throat?” the doctor asked Matt.

Matt croaked, “a bit.”

“Can you cough for me?”

Matt gave a weak, dry cough while the doctor tapped on his back and listened to his chest. His chest hurt to breathe, but it didn’t feel clogged with gunk like it did when he had pneumonia last time.

“Good.” The doctor pulled the stethoscope from his ears. “It might just be a regular cold. We’ll take some blood though. Even a minor virus could lower your seizure threshold.”

Foggy swooped in and gave Matt’s hand a sympathetic squeeze. “Sorry, buddy. It’s the last thing you need right now.”

Matt looked disgruntled as the doctor prescribed supplemental oxygen along with a variety of other tests and medications, but much to Foggy’s surprise there was no arguing. Matt just lay there in silence looking utterly miserable.

The nurse looking after Matt that day had not even bothered to introduce herself by name, so it came as no surprise when she didn’t bother to warn Matt she was about to swoop in with the nasal cannula. Matt could sense her presence, but he misjudged what she was doing. He jerked back in fright as the tube came in contact with his cheeks.

“You gotta warn him,” Foggy snapped to the nurse. “He’s blind.” Foggy gestured at the wall where _Blind Patient_ was written in large letters at the top of a whiteboard.

“Sorry, darl,” the nurse drawled, seemingly oblivious to Foggy’s hostility. “I’m going to loop the cannula under your nose.”

Matt squinched up his face as the oxygen was turned on. His nasal passages felt raw from weeks of oxygen flow. Foggy grabbed Daisy and plonked her under Matt’s left hand. “Come on, Daze. Your daddy needs some comforting,” he said in sickly sweet voice. Matt rolled his eyes at the use of the word “daddy”, but for once he didn’t argue the point.

“Matt, do you want some noodles?” Foggy asked as soon as they were alone. “I got vegetarian – lots of vitamins and stuff. Very healing.” He opened one of the boxes so that Matt could get a better smell.

Matt shook his head and pointed to his throat.

“Do you want me to get you some soup?”

Matt shook his head.

Foggy sighed. After a minute of just standing there in silence, Foggy said, “I’m going to get you some soup.”

Before Matt could protest, Foggy was out the door, abandoning the boxes of now lukewarm noodles.

 

When Foggy returned with a Vietnamese soup and an iced tea, Claire was perched on the side of Matt’s bed, patting Daisy.

“Hey, Foggy.”

“Hey, Claire.” They both sounded equally as tired.

“Hey, Matt,” Foggy added. “I got you pho ga. I got them to chop everything up a bit smaller than usual for your sore throat. You should at least have the soup.”

Matt didn’t say anything as Foggy arranged everything just so on Matt’s table, handing him a spoon and chopsticks and pushing the table right up to Matt’s stomach.

“Can I interest you in some soon-to-be-reheated noodles?” Foggy asked Claire.

Claire raised her eyebrows as Foggy wiggled the box in front of her. After a moment’s thought she shrugged, “why not. It’s better than the dry crackers I have in my locker downstairs.”

“Great,” Foggy said. “I’ll pop out to the microwave. Be back in two ticks.”

“You gonna eat that?” Claire said to Matt as soon as Foggy was out the door.

Matt dropped the spoon to the table. “Not hungry.”

“Yeah, but you should eat it anyway. You’ve already lost more than enough weight over the last few weeks. Think about all the people you have to save when you get out.”

Matt sighed, “m’tired.”

“So you keep saying.” She swallowed, debating her next words. Taking a deep breath, Claire said, “tiredness is totally normal after all these seizures. What’s not normal is you not giving it your best to get up and get better.” She ran her fingers through Daisy’s fur and then reached over to squeeze Matt’s hand. “I believe in you, Matt Murdock. I believe you can get better.”

“You-“ Matt cleared his throat. “You said I was never going to get better,” he said, referring to a conversation they’d had the previous year when Matt had pneumonia. “You said I was broken. I’m starting to think you were right.”

Claire studied Matt’s face. She couldn’t read his expression, but she noticed his hands trembling as he gripped the blanket.

“Not broken,” she said softly. “I-I know that you have so much more to give. The community is rallying around you. Me, Danny, Foggy… Foggy in particular – and you’re going to at least try to eat some of the soup he got you by the way,” she added in a low voice. “Where was I? Oh yeah, Foggy in particular – we’re all here to help. But you need to help yourself. I _know_ you’ve not been doing your prescribed laps of the ward. I _know_ you’re not giving it all at physical therapy. I _know_ you can do better.” She looked at Matt, hoping for a response – even an angry one would do. But Matt’s face had returned to an impassive one. He’d closed shop for the night. They sat there in silence until Foggy returned with the warmed noodles.

Matt could feel Foggy and Claire’s eyes on him while they tucked into their noodle boxes. He couldn’t stand the attention, so he picked up the spoon and took a tentative mouthful. It was warm and salty and Matt had to admit that it did feel somewhat comforting. He could hear the simultaneous exhalations from Foggy and Claire as he swallowed the first mouthful. It was intimidating to be the subject of so much expectation.

Sensing Matt’s self-consciousness, Foggy said with his mouth half-full, “so Claire, how’s work?”

“It’s been a quiet shift so far. It’ll get crazier after my break.”

“Friday night,” Foggy nodded.

Claire looked at Matt. “You know, I haven’t had a single patient come in under the influence of that fear drug since you were tasered.”

“Apart from Matt,” Foggy pointed out.

“Mmm apart from Matt,” Claire agreed. “I mean, no one’s come into the ER.”

“The cases are still clogging up the courts though,” Foggy said. “Melvin’s trial still hasn’t got a new date confirmed. I’m starting to think we shouldn’t have requested a postponement. At least it would be over and done with.”

Matt gave him a quizzical look.

Foggy sighed. “Melvin’s not very well, Matt,” Foggy explained. “I think the stress has got to him.”

“What- what happened?”

“He hasn’t broken his bail conditions,” Foggy said quickly. “But he did have a bit of a meltdown. When he started throwing things… um, very _sharp_ things, Betsy decided to intervene.”

Matt dropped the spoon. “Where is he now?”

“Betsy got him into an in-patient facility.”

“Where?”

“Matt, believe me, he’s looking better already. You don’t need to worry – or-or escape. _Please_ don’t escape.”

“I don’t-” Matt started to argue, but changed his mind. There were more important questions. “When did this happen?”

“Earlier this week. Betsy and I are advocating for him – and he hasn’t been scheduled. I visited him on Tuesday and then this morning. He agreed to stay for another week.”

“But you didn’t tell me,” Matt snapped.

“I didn’t want to-”

“Worry me,” Matt finished. “You did this with the- the-” Matt knew the term was ‘class action’ in his head and yet his mouth just wouldn’t say it. He gave a grunt of frustration and growled, “Y-you always have a go at me about lying.”

Foggy rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you now.”

Claire cleared her throat. “Guys, take a deep breath.” Foggy went to open his mouth and Claire said, “both of you.”

Foggy shut his mouth with an audible snap.

“Good. Now, let’s change the topic.” Matt and Foggy both looked confused. Claire shrugged. “I’m just saying, the argument wasn’t getting anywhere.” She paused, thinking of a different topic. “Any news on Matt’s drugging?”

Matt tilted his head in Foggy’s direction. “That woman you hired?”

“Jessica?” Foggy shoveled a forkful of noodles into his mouth as a delaying tactic.

Filling the awkward silence, Claire said, “she came to see me, you know. She interrogated me about the night you came into the ER. But she wouldn’t tell me anything, even though I told her I knew you’d hired her.”

“See, Matt?” Foggy said, still chewing. “Confidentiality”.

“You don’t need to worry about confidentiality,” Claire said, poking at a shrimp then pushing it aside in favor of a piece of wilted green stalk.

“She knows about Daredevil,” Matt said, picking up his spoon again and poking at the soup.

“She won’t tell anyone,” Claire commented.

“One more person,” Matt replied. “It weak–threatens the secret.”

“You getting drugged threatens your secret too, Matt,” Foggy pointed out. “Who knows what you might do if you get drugged again. The sooner Jessica works out who’s doing this, the safer your secret is.” He paused. “And we need to stop Kirsten McDuffie from sniffing around.”

“She came – she was here,” Matt said.

Foggy raised his eyebrows. “You remember that? You seemed pretty out of it.”

“No, not- ” Matt said. “Uh, here, two – three days ago?” He couldn’t keep track of the days in hospital. He didn’t even know how long he’d been admitted for.

Foggy dropped his greasy fork on his best suit pants, but he barely noticed. “What?! But you have guards at the entrance to this half of the ward.”

“Doesn’t stop anyone,” Matt grumbled. “She just talked her way through. Walked straight in-in-” he gestured at the door. “And Julia, Elizabeth… and Jessica. Everyone.”

Claire frowned. “That’s not good enough. I’ll see what’s going on.”

“I’ll put in a complaint,” Foggy added.

Matt nodded. He hadn’t wanted to make a fuss earlier, but he was relieved something was going to be done. He was in some ways ashamed of needing a guard. He didn’t want to worry Foggy, but there was no denying that he felt incredibly unsafe in the hospital. It was wearing him down. In fact, he attributed the cold (or whatever was causing his high temperature) to the fact that he was continually stressed. Despite the ‘Man without Fear’ moniker, Matt had a lot of fear. _Too_ much fear.

“In any case, I’m going to stick around all weekend, buddy, so no one will get past me,” Foggy said.

Matt huffed in amusement, a small smile breaking out on his face.

“What?” Foggy said in fake indignation. “You don’t believe me? I have a few skills.” He gave a dramatic sigh. “Or I could just get Danny.”

Matt coughed. “Not all weekend,” he begged. “Danny’s best in small doses. I-I’m already… headache.”

Claire stood up. “I have to get back to the ER, guys. I’ll follow up on the guards though.”

“Thanks, Claire,” Foggy called after her.

“Thanks,” Matt echoed. He heard her say, “eat your soup” as she walked down the hallway – an order designed to be audible only to Matt. He rolled his eyes, but obediently took a small sip.

“Good?” Foggy asked.

Matt nodded and took another sip. Foggy didn’t need to know that the mouthful was entirely motivated by guilt.

“We’re going to have a chill weekend, Matty. I know you’re tired, but between naps we can put on a few movies, read some books… mom’s even going to make more custard ‘cause you liked it so much last time…oh and Karen said she’d drop in tomorrow afternoon…” Foggy nattered on while Matt’s attention drifted away to Melvin. Foggy was keeping something from him, of that much Matt was certain. But the very thought of doing anything about it was exhausting in itself.

Matt was still playing with his barely eaten pho when Foggy got a phone call.

“That’s weird,” Foggy said. “No Caller ID.”

Matt croaked, “answer it. Might be a client.”

Foggy shrugged and wandered into the hallway to take the call. On return, he asked, “how much of that did you hear?”

“Enough that I know we’re now Jessica Jones’ lawyers,” Matt replied.

“You and your super ears," Foggy groaned. "I’m going to head to the station. Will you promise to stay here?”

Matt rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay, I just worry, that’s all,” Foggy said with his hands raised. “I’ll be back soon… hopefully.”


	29. The good patient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it looks like my speculation about Shadowland and DD season 3 is probably incorrect (thank goodness). I'm looking forward to season 3 even more now (24 days to go woot!). If you haven't seen it already, there are some set photos and a spoiler-laden article on Entertainment Weekly's website.

Foggy snapped at the cab driver as he took an early right turn – a turn that would inevitably add another five minutes to Foggy’s journey back to the hospital from the police precinct. It was uncharacteristic behavior from Foggy, but he was tired and cross and, well, this wasn’t how Friday evening was meant to turn out. Foggy assumed that he’d share noodles with Matt while swapping stories about law cases for Matt’s droll accounts of his physical therapy sessions. Foggy would watch Matt fall asleep mid-conversation, and then he’d be free to take Daisy home and park himself on the couch like a sloth. But instead, Matt had now caught some kind of germ, and rather than being there for his best friend, Foggy had bail out the PI who was meant to be working for him.

To make matters worse, when he returned to Matt’s room, Foggy found him lying unconscious on his side, the alien mask strapped to his face. And because there was no peace to be had for Foggy Nelson tonight, Danny was sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed. He looked up just as Foggy did a double take.

Foggy pulled a face. “What’s going on?”

Danny gestured at Matt. “With this guy?”

“I’m not talking about the news headlines,” Foggy snapped.

Danny looked puzzled for a moment then said, “he had a seizure.”

“You’re not doing your chi whatever again, are you?”

“Oh no, no – Matt wasn’t _poisoned_ ”. Danny quickly added, “I-I don’t want to clear the medicines from his system again. That was _intense_.”

Foggy was about to ask why the fuck he was sitting on Matt’s bed then, but instead he swallowed his irritation and wandered out into the hallway to find a nurse and a proper explanation.

The nurse told Foggy, “he had a couple of short seizures in quick succession – they suspect it’s because of this new infection. He’s so tired, the poor guy. The doctor thought it best to provide him with some extra respiratory support overnight while he recovers.”

It wasn’t enough for Foggy. “Can I talk to them?”

“The doctor?” The nurse checked her watch. “I can see, but it’s a Friday night. He’ll probably be flat out.”

“When-when was the last seizure?”

“Probably about an hour ago,” she said.

Foggy muttered, “thanks,” before returning to Matt’s room.

Foggy had been planning his spiel on the Jessica drama the entire trip back to the hospital, nervous about Matt’s reaction. But now Foggy just wanted to get it over and done with. He was particularly dreading Matt’s reaction to the news that Jessica’s PI fee was now being exchanged for Nelson & Murdock’s representation. Going by Jessica’s doorstop file and the sarcastic comments from the desk sergeant, Foggy suspected they might have drawn the short straw on that exchange. Then again, of all the attorneys in the city, Matt was probably the best match for a client like Jessica - after all, he was almost as batshit crazy as she was. Foggy stared at the two new bags that had been added to Matt’s IV stand wondering what they were for. Whatever the case, it didn’t look like Matt was going to be returning to work any time soon.

Foggy looked at his watch. If the second seizure was about an hour ago, he reasoned there was probably at least another hour before Matt roused – perhaps even longer if he’d had two seizures in a row. Barely acknowledging Danny’s presence, Foggy settled into the chair beside Matt’s bed, holding his hand just in case Matt could sense he was there. Daisy took a moment’s break from her habitual post-seizure Matt-guarding to give Foggy’s hand a single lick before she settled back into Matt’s chest with a heavy sigh.

“You don’t have to stick around,” Foggy eventually told Danny, cutting through the increasingly awkward silence.

Danny said, “the nurse told me buzz her if Daisy picked another seizure. But yeah, I guess now that you’re here…”

“Oh.” Foggy had been so cross about what he assumed was Danny doing some sort of chi thing without Matt’s permission, that he hadn’t really considered that Danny had been merely watching for signs of another seizure. Foggy attempted a smile. “Thanks for looking out for him.”

“No worries,” Danny said, flashing a smile. He slithered off the bed, pulled up his hood and tucked his hands into his hoodie pockets.

“You and Matt both wear the uniform of the college student with your hoodies and sneakers,” Foggy said, a note of affection in his voice.

“I wouldn’t know,” Danny replied with a shrug.

“Have you thought of applying for college?”

“I think I need to finish middle school first,” Danny pointed out.

“Huh. Well, you have the smarts.”

“Thanks, dude. Honestly, I don’t think I really want to go to school right now. I’ve been busy helping Colleen out at the dojo and trying to cover for Daredevil-” Danny paused, sensing that ‘covering for Daredevil’, wasn’t quite what Foggy wanted to hear right now. Danny quickly changed the topic: “but if you ever want to watch any movies from the 90s or 2000s, I have a bit of catching up to do-”

“Sure, I could write up a ‘best of’ list if you’d like,” Foggy said. He could feel the tension leaving the room with the change of topic.

“Great.”

There was an awkward silence as Danny continued to stand there, staring at Matt. “Oh,” he said, snapping back to the now, “yeah, I’ll go now. See you tomorrow.” He was gone before Foggy could even think to reply.

 

* * *

 

Despite the call of his soft, quiet bed at home, Foggy decided to stay with Matt overnight. Not only was he worried about Matt’s turn for the worse, but he was also concerned about the revelation that people were routinely being ushered through the restricted section of the ward.

Foggy shifted the pleather armchair closer to Matt’s bed. Matt had long ditched the hospital pillows and blankets in favor of his own silk-encased pillows and fleece blanket, which meant there was more than enough abandoned linen for Foggy to make a kind of nest in the armchair. There was a silver lining to Matt’s sensory pickiness.

Foggy shifted the pillow from one side to the next, trying to avoid the weird lump on one side of the backrest. Daisy stared at Foggy from her nest of fleece blanket as he shuffled things around. She looked absurdly comfortable curled against Matt’s chest. “Lucky dog,” Foggy muttered. Her tail gave a few lazy thumps against the blanket in response.

 

Foggy woke in the early hours of the morning to see Matt’s open eyes glistening in the rising sun. “Hey Matty, are you awake?” Foggy croaked, realizing too late that the alien mask wasn’t exactly conducive to a verbal response. Matt nodded. He gave a low, pained groan as he rolled onto his back. He tried to talk – to ask what had happened - but the words were largely unintelligible thanks to the mask.

Fifteen minutes later, Matt was released from the mask. He rubbed his lips with the back of his hand. They felt strange after wearing the mask all night - it was as if he’d been standing in gusty wind for hours. He was no longer fearful of the mask (not _much_ , anyway) but it didn’t mean he liked it. He yawned and immediately shuddered at the pain that bit back. His jaw was always sore after seizures, but it seemed worse this time. He mumbled something about Aspirin to the nurse, who told him to wait for the doctor, prompting an unusually rude response from Matt.

“Dude, you can’t say that to the staff. They’re just trying to help,” Foggy whispered after the nurse had left.

“I’m sick of playing ‘good patient’,” Matt replied. “I want to go home. Everyone expects me to be polite and nice. I-I-I don’t-I don’t want.”

Foggy didn’t know how to respond. He knew that Matt wasn’t exactly a model patient oozing positivity. Sure, Matt hadn’t tried to escape during this stay, but he’d thrown what Foggy called a “Matt Murdock tantrum” on more than one occasion, which in Foggy’s books made him far from a ‘good patient’. That wasn’t the type of thing he could say to Matt though. Not here, not now.

“Um…” That was all Foggy had.

Matt tilted his head in Foggy’s direction, waiting for the rebuttal. But it never came. Wordlessly, Matt curled up on his side and drifted back off to sleep, leaving Foggy to take Daisy downstairs for a pee.

Despite the early hour, Foggy called his mother. “Um, hi mom. You know how you were going to visit Matt this morning? Yeah, maybe hold off for a bit…. No, he’s okay – there have been a few complications… no, he’ll be okay…. Two seizures in a row last night… yeah… yeah, maybe this afternoon. I’ll check with him and text you… I’m fine, mom. I’m not the one in hospital – well, I’m not the patient… I know… of _course_ I’m looking after myself. I’m not a kid.”

Foggy sat on a hard bench while Daisy sniffed around the sorry excuse for a sidewalk garden. He pulled his coat collar about around his neck against the cold spring air. “I stayed here last night… no, Daisy too…. Yeah, I know. I don’t know how we got away with it… he doesn’t want her as an official service animal… something about not wanting to stifle her creativity or something… I think she’s just charmed everyone in the hospital and they’re willing to bend the rules… I’m joking, mom…. Yeah, yeah… thanks, bye.”

Foggy hung up and said to the wagging dog, “how do you charm everyone, little miss?” Pleased with the attention, she gazed up at him with adoring eyes.

 

* * *

 

Matt was in a slightly better mood when he woke up mid-morning. Foggy convinced him to eat a few bites of the hospital’s egg and bacon ‘breakfast croissant’, although Daisy ended up eating more than Matt did. Foggy flicked on the television and did his best to describe the visuals with as much humor as possible. Matt didn’t laugh, but his mood seemed a little lighter after an hour of commentary. By midday, Foggy couldn’t wait any longer. He cleared his throat and said, “you know how I went to see Jessica Jones last night?”

Matt frowned. “Vaguely.” He’d completely forgotten about the event until now.

“She called needing immediate representation. Arrested on drunk and disorderly charges and destruction of private property.”

Matt raised his eyebrows. “This is the woman who’s supposed to be trustworthy?”

“Hang on, Matt. Let me finish.”

Matt drew his blanket up to his chest and waited.

“You know how I told you she was experimented on and that’s how she got the crazy strength?”

Matt nodded.

“Yeah, so it turns out it also means that she metabolizes drugs and alcohol faster too.”

“So by the time she was taken to the station she was sober?” Matt deduced.

“Just let me finish. _Then_ you can ask questions,” Foggy said impatiently. “She was apparently following a lead on _your_ case – not the tasering but the druggings. She was following a trail and it led her to an old building on the edge of the Kitchen. Long story short, she ended up getting dosed with the same shit you were injected with – but they sprayed something in her face instead of injecting it.”

Matt tipped his head. A spray. It sounded vaguely familiar. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she was pretty shaken up. Made me drop her off at a liquor store on the way back from the station. I wasn’t about to argue. She said she was going to a friend’s place afterwards so fingers crossed she got the support she needed.”

“You said she metabolized it quickly. How-how quickly?”

“Apparently someone heard loud noises coming from the building and called the cops on her. But then by the time they rocked up, the effects had worn off. Unfortunately, in that short period of time she caused a bit of havoc.” Foggy shook his head. “You should be glad that you’re not that strong buddy. She seriously destroyed internal walls in the place-”

“That’s going to cost her a fortune to replace.”

“Ah, but this is the thing – it was already in such a state of disrepair that I argued the damages are inconsequential – and that’s even if the police could prove that they were caused by Jessica. What’s more, the police contacted the owner and it turns out that he’s been violating like a zillion city laws by leaving it in that unsafe state without so much as a warning notice, so he wasn’t about to attract more attention by pressing charges. Plus, they did a drug and alcohol test as soon as they got to the station and it was all clear – we didn’t tell them about her crazy metabolism of course. Long story short, I managed to get them to drop _all_ the charges.”

Matt’s jaw dropped. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Foggy smiled.

Matt thought for a moment then reached out with his fist, which Foggy met with a theatrical “pow”.

“Yeah, I was pretty impressed, if I may say so myself,” Foggy said, puffing out his chest.

“So-so what now?”

“I thought I’d give her a bit of time to recover and then call her maybe this afternoon. I saw how you reacted to the drug. I think it’s the type of thing that you might never recover from fully.”

Matt raised his eyebrows, but eventually gave a knowing nod.

“Do you remember anything yet?”

“The spray – or dust – whatever it was – it-it rings a bell. I think- I think it-it’s how they dosed me the first time.” Matt frowned as he struggled to remember. He could remember the vague feeling of terror. That was bad enough.

“That’s great,” Foggy said, “I-I mean – not great that you were dosed – but it’s great you’re remembering.”

Matt pulled a face. “I’m not sure I want to remember.” He threaded his fingers through Daisy’s hair, unconsciously dividing it into small bunches, which he then started braiding. “Do you think you could put a movie on or something,” Matt asked, keen for a distraction.

“Sure… sure… I- I can text mom and get her to bring in the custard too if you’d like. She was going to come this morning, but – hmm yeah…” Foggy didn’t want to say, ‘but you were in a thunderous mood.’ Instead, Foggy said, “she’d love to see you.”

Matt forced a smile. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

 

Things were less great half an hour later when the doctor insisted Matt get up and walk at least one loop of the ward. Thanks to Ian’s sessions, Matt had managed to regain enough strength to walk with just the support of his IV pole, but with the new wave of exhaustion caused by the infection, he felt like he was back to square one. In the end, the nursing staff brought out the dreaded walker so that at least Matt could get some level of exercise.

Of course, as luck would have it, Karen turned up when Matt was at the furthest end of the ward from his room. He was sweating and tired and crabby, and the last thing he wanted was to be seen like this by Karen. She was evidently taken aback too. Matt’s hearing might have been dampened, but he could still hear her heartrate increase when she spotted him, and another increase to her heartrate when Matt snapped at Foggy that he needed to sit down. Frustrated, he pushed the walker with as much force as he could as he sat down on one of the ancient hallway chairs. The walker overbalanced and fell to the floor with a crash, sending Daisy skittering out of the way.

Matt didn’t apologize. He merely sat there smoldering away, the embarrassment and anger and bitterness all coming to a head. Foggy put his hand on Matt’s arm, but Matt jerked away. He leaned his head back so that it rested against the wall, closing his eyes to try and stop the stream of tears that started to leak out anyway.

Karen and Foggy swapped looks. Foggy shrugged and gestured to Karen as if to say, _can you have a go?_

Karen gingerly sat next to Matt and placed a hand on his collarbone. “Matt?” A lone tear dripped off the bottom of Matt’s chin and onto Karen’s hand. “Matt, can I – uh, I’m going to give you a hug.” Without waiting, she pulled him forward so that his head flopped onto her shoulder. Matt gave an audible sob, and then clutched his chest, digging at the sudden spasm. Karen moved his hand and rubbed the spot, “I’m here, Matt. You’re not alone, remember? You’re not doing this alone. You’re not alone, Matt.” She whispered the sentiment over and over until the sobbing stopped and Matt finally went limp in her arms.

It took half an hour for Matt to calm down enough to be convinced to return to his room. His mouth formed a thin, straight line when they dragged the walker over.

“Come on, Matt. You can do it,” Foggy chanted.

Matt mumbled something under his breath.

“What’s that?” Karen asked.

“It’s not that simple,” Matt mumbled, a little louder this time.

“Never is, buddy. Not with you,” Foggy said, trying not to indulge Matt’s grumbling about the walker. He checked his watch. “Shit, mom will be here in ten minutes.” The threat was enough to make Matt move and with the help of Karen and Foggy, he shuffled his way back to the room.

“A lap of the ward in a mere…” Foggy checked his watch. “A mere 52 minutes. Good work, Murdock.”

Matt gave him a withering glare.

“Ouch,” Foggy joked.

 

Foggy’s mother turned up minutes after Matt had crawled back into bed. His head was pulsing with the effort, even though the heavy lifting was largely done by Foggy and a nurse. Matt flopped against the raised bedhead, closing his eyes as the nurse arranged the various tubes so that they didn’t get in the way. It meant that Matt’s response to Anna’s affectionate hello and hug was to mumble, “I feel like a cyborg.”

Anna looked at Foggy, confused. Foggy just shrugged and answered, “a handsome cyborg though.”

“A very realistic one too,” Karen added.

Anna drew out a series of Tupperware containers from her bag. “I hope this cyborg eats. I have the chicken and pepper casserole you like, another bread and butter custard, some blueberries – apparently they’re full of… oh I forget what they’re called-”

“Antioxidants,” Karen supplied.

“Yes, those,” Anna said distractedly, adding to the pile an apple cake and a green salad. “I’ve probably made way too much food-”

“Hey,” Danny interrupted, leaping through the doorway.

“Here’s a solution to the excess,” Foggy muttered.

Danny said, “excess what?”

“Food,” Foggy, Matt, Anna and Karen answered simultaneously.

“Great! Happy to help out,” Danny said, before holding out his hand to Anna. “Hi, I’m Danny.”

“Anna Nelson,” she replied, smiling at Danny’s formal introduction. It seemed so at odds with his scruffy appearance.

As they broke contact, Danny’s eyes went straight for the hospital tray of untouched lunch. He lifted the lid and gushed, “oh, it’s meatloaf day. Are you sure you don’t want this?”

“I’m willing to sacrifice it,” Matt deadpanned.

Danny looked from Matt to Foggy, then Karen and Anna. “None of you want it? We could go quarters.”

“You go ahead,” Foggy said with a straight face. “Really, we’ll be just fine.”

Danny shrugged and grabbed a fork, demolishing the lump of grey meat in no time. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “So great.”

Karen raised her eyebrows at Foggy as if to say, _is he for real?_

Danny glanced at the pile of Tupperware containers. “More food?”

Anna shuffled closer to the containers, worried that the food cooked for Matt was about to be demolished.

Danny yelped, “oh! I forgot…” He rooted around in his hoodie pocket, finally pulling a headband, which he handed to Matt. “It has earphones so you can sleep on your side while listening to music. Neat huh?” Matt ran his hands over the fabric, feeling the wires that snaked around the band.

“Very,” Matt agreed. “But you didn’t need to get me anything. Really.”

“I know,” Danny said with a shrug.

Matt fiddled with the headband, uncomfortable that he was the subject of such attention. Foggy spotted the behavioral tells and asked his mother for the latest gossip on her neighbor’s salubrious affair. It was a favorite topic of Anna’s and soon Karen, Danny, Foggy and Matt had been subjected to way too much information about her poor neighbor. It had had the desired affect though. Matt had relaxed into the pillows, his eyes half closed.

Karen, who had looked uncomfortable during the entire spiel, eventually cleared her throat and asked, “anyone want a coffee? I’ll go to the place around the corner.”

Matt’s eyes snapped open. “Yes… please.”

Karen glanced at Foggy before asking Matt, “Uh, are you allowed?”

“What about a weak latte,” Foggy suggested.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

Matt would have thought that three weeks without coffee would have cured him from his addiction, but it appeared not. Soon after drinking half the giant latte, Matt could feel his headache starting to clear. There was still a dull ache but the stabbing pain was no longer present. Far from being a relief, it just made him more anxious. With a standing order not to drink any kind of stimulant, it was just one more thing he had to fight for in here.

With his headache lessened, the flock of visitors didn’t seem quite as much of a burden anymore, particularly as he wasn’t expected to be much of a participant in the conversation. Anna did her usual mothering routine, wiping his face and hands with a washcloth and attempting to comb his hair, despite his protests otherwise. “What are mothers for,” she joked.

“Mom,” Foggy groaned, but he stopped when he saw Matt’s face. He looked contented, happy even.

“Bet you wish you weren’t an honorary Nelson now,” Foggy joked.

Matt just gave a tiny and slightly smug smile.

It wasn’t until everyone but Foggy had left that Foggy ventured, “you secretly love the mothering.”

Matt’s mouth twitched, but he wasn’t going to admit anything that easily. “Your mom is unique,” Matt offered.

“Oh come on, you love all the threats to cut your hair and the face scrubbing. Hell, she hasn’t tried the spit trick on you yet, but it’s only matter of time. I bet you’d put up with that too.”

“Okay, I like the way she cares,” Matt said softly. “It rubbed off on you too.” Daisy sensed Matt’s unease and shifted closer. “I-I feel-” Matt paused, “I-I-I feel very loved.”

“And so you should, buddy,” Foggy replied. “And so you should.”

 

* * *

 

True to his word, Foggy stuck around all weekend, spending virtually every waking moment by Matt’s side. He took Matt’s lead when it came to conversation, and apart from the odd discussion about meals or Daisy or at one point a movie, they passed the time largely in silence - or in Matt’s case, asleep. Apart from the seizures on Saturday evening and Sunday afternoon, the rest of the weekend was gloriously uneventful… that is, until Sunday evening when there was a knock on the door.

“Jessica,” Foggy said, nearly dropping his phone.

“Nelson,” Jessica replied with a nod.

“Call me Foggy, please.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Fine, _Foggy_.”

They both looked at Matt, who was fast asleep with his mouth open, his breath coming in soft wheezes.

Diverting her attention, Foggy asked, “h-how are you after Friday night? Uh, do you want to talk outside?” As he got to his feet, a pen fell from his lap and skittered across the floor. Foggy looked straight to Matt, holding his breath.

“I was hoping to talk to you both,” she replied, just as Matt coughed and woke with a gasp.

“Matt, are you okay?” Foggy poured a glass of water and nudged it against Matt’s hand. “Here, plain water.”

As Matt struggled to sit up, the IV tubing got caught under his elbow, triggering the oversensitive machine’s alarm. Matt curled up on his side, hands over his ears, his face screwed up in pain. Foggy scrambled to hit the silence button, nearly spilling the water all over Matt in his haste.

“Stupid machine,” Foggy muttered. “Matt, here’s the water. Let’s try again.”

Matt was too distracted by the painful wake up to notice Jessica’s presence until after he’d taken a few sips. He tipped his head, to which Jessica replied, “hi Matt.”

Foggy said, “Uh, Matt, it’s Jessica J-”

“I know,” Matt interrupted. He ran a hand through his wild-looking hair. “Um…” he started.

“Whoever dosed me at the warehouse got away before I could even see them,” she said, pre-empting his question.

“You shouldn’t be- you shouldn’t put yourself in that situation. Not-not for me.”

“It’s my job,” Jessica said flatly.

Matt replied, “what if you were hurt?”

Jessica shrugged. “It’s my job,” she repeated, more slowly this time. “Being a PI isn’t exactly risk free, and yet… _I’m still here_.” She theatrically whispered the last three words for emphasis.

Foggy cleared his throat. “Technically, it’s not your job to follow the poisoner. I hired you to find info on the cops and why the tasered Matt.” He stopped at the sight of Jessica’s poisonous glare. “Uh, not that we appreciate your help. What did you come to discuss, Jessica?”

Jessica turned to Matt. “Murdock, do you remember anything about the second drugging? Anything at all?”

“N-no,” Matt said. “Nothing. Unlikely too either. The seizures tend to wipe my memory of events immediately beforehand.” He paused. “And call me Matt please.” He was still a bit wary of Jessica, but he figured if she was drugged and still wanted to pursue the case, she could probably use as much information as he had. Matt offered, “when I found Pellegrini – Pellegrini’s body…dead… _murdered_ , um, he had been burned with a cigarette butt – menthol.” He wrinkled his nose at the thought. “The butt was left there. It was deliberate, but I don’t know what it means.”

“There’s been nothing from the police about the murder _or_ Matt’s drugging,” Foggy added. “They’ve stopped taking my phone calls.”

“There’s never anything from the police,” Jessica pointed out. “What about you, Foggy - do you remember anything else - anything at all?”

“Nothing more than what I told you,” Foggy added. “He - I think it was a he - low voice, tall… um, he was dressed in a hospital gown and mask.”

“Any distinctive body movements? Tics? Gestures?”

“Uh, Yeah actually. Maybe - he cracked his wrist after he finished injecting Matt with the substance.”

“Anything else?”

“No-nothing I can think of right now.” Foggy looked at Jessica’s blank face. She was giving nothing away.

“It’s the same guy,” Matt deduced. “The guy who drugged me, attacked you.”

Foggy stared. How did Matt get that from a heartbeat?

“Possibly,” Jessica shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

“Did you follow him or did he find you?”

Jessica replied, “I’ll keep you guys posted,” before turning around to leave. She paused at the door and said, “thanks for helping the other night, Nelson. You-you’re pretty good for a lawyer named Foggy.” She winged it down the hallway before Foggy could think of a come-back

Matt drew back his sheets, planning to follow, but by the time he’d swung his legs over the side of the bed, she was in the elevator. “Shit,” he said.

“Sorry, Matt,” Foggy said, the only thing he felt he could say.

“No, it’s not your fault I can’t run after her,” Matt said with a sigh. “I don’t suppose-”

“Nope,” Foggy replied. “Not going to happen.”

Matt slumped on the edge of the bed. “Can I have her phone number at least?”

“I should warn you, she rarely picks up.”

“That’s okay,” Matt said, distracted. It hurt that he was stuck in hospital unable to investigate the druggings, and more importantly, unable to help Melvin. He could barely imagine having the energy to pursue this mystery assailant anyway. He lay sideways, his legs still hanging off the side of the bed. Even pulling his legs up seemed impossibly exhausting.

“Dude, that can’t possibly be comfortable,” Foggy said.

“Ngh,” was all Matt had in reply, his face smushed against a pillow.

“Do you need – can I- can I help?”

Matt grunted a yes, so Foggy lifted Matt’s legs back into bed and moved the pillows into a more comfortable-looking arrangement. “We’ve got a bit of a way to go before you’ll be able to tackle your six flights of stairs, huh,” Foggy said, testing the waters.

Matt pulled his blanket up to his neck. “Don’t even want to think about it,” he mumbled into the pillow. He readjusted the cannula under his nose so that it wasn’t digging so uncomfortably into his cheek. He grumbled, “m’gonna sleep now.” He really _really_ didn’t want to think about those stairs. It seemed _incomprehensible_ that he’d ever feel that energetic again. “You go home,” Matt sighed. “S’late and that armchair smells. You don’t wanna sleep there.”

Foggy huffed in amusement. “Gross. I don’t want to know what it smells of. I will go home though.” He gave Matt’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll bring Daisy back first thing tomorrow, I promise.”


	30. Always a boxer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. My conference paper is written and delivered, so now I can return to this story. The Airbnb I'm in for the next two weeks is completely rank, so I might psychologically escape by writing a lot more of this story instead.

When Foggy dropped Daisy off at the hospital on Monday morning, Matt could sense Foggy’s anxiousness. “You want to say something,” Matt observed.

“I hate when you do that,” Foggy muttered. “Okay, here goes: we need to hire that paralegal stat. We have too much work at the moment. Karen’s doing way too much overtime and Candy really doesn’t want to work full time.” Foggy quickly added, “I’m not saying this to make you feel bad – far from it. I just think – I think we need to do this now, rather than wait until you’re out of hospital, um, whenever that is.”

Matt just sat there stroking Daisy’s back.

“Matt? Say something,” Foggy eventually prompted.

Matt answered in a near whisper, “but how can I – how can we-”

“We could do the interviews here,” Foggy said.

“In hospital?”

“Yeah, why not. You might be home by the time we get to interviews, but if not, then there’s nothing wrong with conducting them here. It’s public knowledge that you’re in hospital because you were attacked by police. I’m sure potential employees will understand.”

“What kind of message does it send though? I don’t want an employee’s first impression of me to be _this_.” He waved his hand around, gesturing at the machines surrounding him.

“Well we don’t need to do it in this room. Maybe we could co-opt one of the treatment rooms like we did when Daisy first visited. You’re not on oxygen anymore-”

“For now-”

“You could put on some regular clothes-”

“That’s not going to fool anyone, Fog.”

“It’s not meant to _fool_ anyone. It’s merely the best option I can come up with.”

Matt resumed stroking Daisy’s back. She looked up at him with adoration and pressed her head against his stomach.

“No,” Matt eventually replied.

“No?” Foggy shook his head in confusion. “Just like that? No?”

“It’s too big a decision.”

“So we get them on a short contract. Maybe a year.”

“No, I mean, you do it. I-I can’t cope with-with-” Matt rubbed his forehead. “I-” He didn’t know how to finish. Half way through the conversation he realized he actually didn’t care who came on as their new paralegal. What difference would it make to him. He could barely stay awake, let alone think about going back to work and resuming the practice he and Foggy had built.

“You do it,” Matt repeated, more sadly this time. “I-I’m sure you and Karen will make the right choice.”

Foggy narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure? It seems- um, you’re not saying this out of some kind of guilt are you?”

Matt sighed. “Just do it, Foggy.”

Foggy studied Matt for a moment. Then, deciding that Matt was genuinely deferring the decision to them, Foggy said, “okay, I’ll advertise a contract position. Six months.”

“A year,” Matt said. “It-it doesn’t make sense to train someone for just six months.”

Foggy raised his eyebrows. “Okay, a year it is.” He glanced over his shoulder as he left the room. Matt already had his eyes closed. There seemed like no end in sight for Matt and this latest step backwards.

 

* * *

 

The following evening, Foggy found himself reading to Matt the enquiries they’d already had about the job. The advertisement had only been live for 12 hours and they’d already had over thirty enquiries. “This woman sounds way too qualified,” Foggy said. “She’s been working for Brown & Spector as a paralegal for over two decades. Why would she want to move?”

“Same reason we didn’t take the jobs at L&Z,” Matt pointed out.

“Yeah, but two decades! Would you really want to take a pay cut like that?”

Matt shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh, oh, we also got a call from a guy we went to Columbia with. I don’t know if you remember Lawrence Cranston – people called him Creepston.”

Matt tipped his head, “no, doesn’t ring a bell.”

“I remember you pulverized him in a mock trial.”

Matt thought for a moment. “No, still don’t recall any Lawrence.”

Foggy shrugged. “Anyway, he wants to know if we’d consider hiring a lawyer. He’s willing to take a paralegal wage. I-I hope you don’t mind, but I said no straight out. He was way too creepy. He’s not the right fit.”

“Your decision,” Matt said.

Foggy paused. “No, it’s _our_ decision, Matt. _Our_ firm, _our_ decision. I’m just going to do the weeding, okay?”

Matt sighed and closed his eyes.

“No, you’re not allowed to go back to sleep until I’ve finished reading out this list,” Foggy said in his best theatrical attempt at an authoritative tone.

“M’just resting my eyes.”

“Sure, sure,” Foggy said.

“Don’t need my eyes to listen.”

When Foggy didn’t respond to that point, Matt grumbled, “I’m tired, okay? They made me do _two_ laps of the ward today. And I’m still feeling like shit from this virus thing.” He gave a small cough, hamming it up a bit.

Foggy rolled his eyes at the pathetic act. “Okay, I’ll do this quickly: there are a couple of enquiries from people who have finished pre-law and want a year’s experience before applying to law school. They might be good for a year’s contract. And you never know – they might return as stellar lawyers in three years time when we’re looking to expand.”

“Mmm,” Matt agreed, forcing his eyes open again. “Any from the community sector?”

“One. Worked in legal aid until the recent cutbacks. Currently works at Chipotle. He seems super keen, particularly about the pro bono stuff.” Foggy paused and said under his breath, “although I think we already have enough pro bono advocates at Nelson & Murdock.”

Matt rubbed his face. “I don’t know, Fog. They all sound good.”

“Apart from Lawrence,” Foggy quickly added.

“Mmm apart from Lawrence,” Matt agreed.

Matt’s eyes were drooping again and he looked minutes away from sleep.

Foggy poked Matt. “Hey, if you’re going to sleep, I might take Daisy home early if that’s okay. I have some things to do.”

If Matt noticed the cryptic nature of Foggy’s statement, he didn’t say anything. He reached for Daisy, disappointed that they had to say goodbye so soon, but thought better of arguing. “You’ll bring her back tomorrow morning,” he said.

“First thing,” Foggy agreed.

Matt listened to the tap tap tap of Daisy’s claws on the lino as she and Foggy headed towards the lift. He rolled over and pushed the call button.

When Elsa arrived, Matt asked, “does Metro General have a psychiatric ward?”

“A small one. Most patients are transferred to Bellevue. Why?”

Matt took a punt, “can you tell me what room Melvin Potter is in?”

“At Metro General?”

“Yes,” Matt said, trying his best to sound confident.

“I don’t think-”

“He’s a friend – and a client,” Matt supplied.

Elsa seemed satisfied. “I’ll find out for you.”

She returned five minutes later with a room number. “I don’t think you’ll be able to visit tonight though.”

“Tomorrow’s fine,” Matt bluffed. He was inwardly rejoicing. Not only was Melvin here in this very same building, but it looked like he could visit legitimately. He assumed he’d have to slip through security – a hard task when he could barely walk the length of the ward unassisted. Matt couldn’t believe that he’d never thought to ask before. But then again, his motivation and imagination had been almost entirely sapped by this latest incident. Maybe Melvin would reinvigorate him – remind him why he and his law practice were important.

“Are you going to turn in for the night?”

“Am I going to fall asleep again? Inevitably,” Matt said with a weary sigh.

“Let’s get you up to the loo then. You can brush your teeth and do other thrilling bedtime things.” Elsa had been Matt’s nurse for long enough that she knew how to deal with these moments where he was utterly unmotivated. “Just think about how lovely and smooth your teeth will feel afterwards.”

Matt ran his tongue over his teeth. They did feel furry. There was a sour tang to his breath too that he’d not even noticed until now. He grunted a yes and she helped him shuffle to the bathroom and back again.

“How long do people usually stay here,” Matt said once he was back in bed.

“In neurology? It depends. Anywhere from a day to months – a year even.” She studied him for a moment. “You’re not going to be here for a year though, Matt. I’m sure you’ll be leaving us soon enough.”

Matt nodded and pulled his thick blanket over his shoulders. The weight he’d lost over the last three weeks had corresponded with an increased sensitivity to cold.

As Elsa double checked his IV machine, Matt asked, “do you think this is all necessary?”

“Hospital?”

Matt shook his head. “Me. Here. Right now. These machines. I don’t even know what you’re dripping into my veins anymore.”

“I can tell you-”

“No, I mean… if I went home tomorrow – do you think I could go home tomorrow and everything would just be okay… without-without all of this.” Matt gestured at the IV machine.

Elsa shifted on the spot. “Uh, I think this is a conversation you have to have with your doctor. She prescribed the medications and she can explain to you what they do. But-but personally, I think you should stay. They’re not going to keep you here without reason. They’re short of beds as it is. Believe me, you’re not a bed blocker.”

“Bed blocker?”

“Sorry, that was inappropriate of me. I shouldn’t have-”

Matt gave a small shake of his head. “It’s okay. Thanks. Thanks for hearing me out.”

Elsa edged towards the door. “If you need anything, you have the buzzer.” She paused for a moment. “Really, you should talk to your doctor if you’re unhappy about your treatment. Don’t let them tell you they’re too busy. I-I can give you the contact numbers for some independent patient advocates if you’d like.”

“Mmm… I think Foggy has that covered.” Matt rolled onto his side and pulled the blankets up a little higher. “Thanks, Elsa.”

“No running away though,” she said in a mock stern tone.

“That’s going to be a stain on my record forever, isn’t it?”

“That and your ability to escape restraints while intubated, yes.”

Matt closed his eyes and mumbled, “that one I’m kind of proud of.”

 

* * *

 

The next day passed, and then the next, and Matt still hadn’t visited Melvin. Every time he remembered Melvin, he thought to himself ‘later’, using the excuse that he didn’t have a strategy to get to the psych ward independently, or he’d just have a small sleep and then make a move. He was still only doing the bare minimum of activity – activities forced on him by the swag of doctors and nurses and other allied health workers.

“Ian made me box this morning,” Matt said to Foggy three days after learning of Melvin's close proximity.

Foggy stopped trying to unknot his tie. “What?”

“With a wreaking ball,” Matt clarified. “He went straight from instructing me to walk across the room to getting out some wraps and gloves.” Matt paused. “The gloves were new, thank goodness.” He gave a huff of amusement. “Can you imagine!” He shook his head, his skin crawling at the thought of second hand hospital owned gloves.

“Purchased for you?”

“I suspect so. Thanks to the notes taken on admission, Ian’s become obsessed with ‘getting me back to boxing’.”

Foggy shook his head in confusion. “That’s good isn’t it?”

“It’s not-they don’t-”

“They don’t understand?”

“No, they just – ugh. I don’t know. It’s _mine_. It’s _my_ thing.”

Foggy changed course. “How did it go? Could you do it?”

“I connected with the bag, if that’s what you’re asking.” Matt decided not to tell Foggy about how he fell over… twice. Truth be told, he’d found the exercise surprisingly calming, even though the most he could do was tap lightly at the bag. He’d struggled to stay upright without a support at the start of the session, but once he had the gloves on and adopted the all-familiar stance, he found a rhythm, a balance, that he didn’t even have to think about. He only fell when he broke his concentration. After the second fall, Ian had called it a day, pulling over a wheelchair so that Matt could have a rest. When he returned to the ward, he was so exhausted that he slept right through lunch and into the afternoon.

“That’s great,” Foggy said. “It’s a good start." He finally extracted himself from his tie. He threw it onto his abandoned office jacket with a triumphant huff. "Any seizures?”

“Not today.” Matt added under his breath, “not yet anyway.”

“Hey, maybe you’ll get lucky. Your cold’s almost gone, right? Plus you’ve got a bit of color in your cheeks. Maybe this is the day you break the run of seizures.”

“Don’t jinx me,” Matt grumbled.

“I didn’t think you believed in that.”

“I don’t.”

Foggy sat back in his chair. He couldn’t win. They sat there in a heavy silence for a few minutes before Foggy said, “oh hey, Melvin’s out of hospital. Betsy accompanied him home this morning.”

Matt sighed. He’d failed at yet another thing. He’d failed to visit the person who had worked so tirelessly to keep him safe.

Foggy sat forward. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Matt shook his head.

“It’s good news, Matt.”

“I know,” Matt whispered. He turned to face Foggy. “I always think I could do more.”

“It _is_ one of your greatest weaknesses,” Foggy joked.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Ha ha.”

“Okay, it’s a strength and a weakness,” Foggy said.

“At the moment, my baseline for _doing stuff_ is so low that-” Matt paused, unsure as to where he was going with this.

Foggy prompted, “so low that… what?”

“I’m not doing anything… anything useful.”

“You’re getting better,” Foggy offered. “That’s useful.”

Matt raised his eyebrows.

“You are. You don’t seem to be struggling with words anymore.”

“Mostly,” Matt corrected.

“It’s a vast improvement from before, buddy.”

Matt shrugged.

Foggy said, “you are getting better. Sure, you’re weak and you’re still having daily seizures, but considering you could barely say a word two weeks ago and were having multiple seizures a day, I think we can confidently say that you’re improving.” He paused. “I didn’t tell you this earlier, but in the days immediately after you woke up, Doctor Millet warned me that you might never get your language back. I was pissing myself. Can you imagine Nelson & Murdock without the great Murdock closings?”

“You’re in that situation now,” Matt pointed out.

“Yeah, but that’s temporary.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I think I do,” Foggy said firmly.

There was a pregnant silence as both waited for the other to say something. Deciding this was an argument that was going nowhere, Foggy said, “can I get you something to eat? Another pho?”

Matt shook his head.

“Dumpling noodle soup then?” When Matt didn’t respond straight away, Foggy offered, “without the soup bit? What about a salad?” When Matt didn’t respond to that either, Foggy said, “I’m going to get something for me at least. Call me if you decide on something, otherwise I’ll just choose for you.”

Matt pulled a face. “You don’t have to.”

“I’ll take Daisy,” Foggy said in lieu of a response. “She needs a pee and a walkies.”

 

* * *

 

Matt greeted Foggy’s return with, “Shake Shack? Really?”

“I love that you can pick the brand of burger,” Foggy said with a chuckle.

“It’s the custard smell mainly,” Matt said.

Foggy plonked the bags down on Matt’s table. “I got you a vanilla shake.”

Matt sniffed the drink and took an experimental sip. He wasn’t a fan of the thickeners in shakes, but the Shake Shack ones were on the upper end of the consumable scale.

“Cheeseburger for you,” Foggy said, laying the wrapped burger on a napkin in front of Matt.

“What monstrosity did _you_ get?”

“BBQ bacon something something,” Foggy said. He unwrapped the burger and peeled back the top layer to examine the contents.

“I can taste the sugar from here,” Matt said. He poked at his own burger. There was no way he’d have requested a burger at this moment in time, but he suddenly felt hungry. He could feel Daisy’s eyes on him as he took a small nibble. He tore off a small part of meat and tossed it to Daisy, who caught it with precision.

“Please don’t feed the entire thing to her,” Foggy said. “You know she goes nuts after burgers.”

“That’s because of the sugar,” Matt pointed out.

Two thirds of a burger later, Matt had had enough. He’d eaten more calories in this meal than he had probably in the last week.

“I made the right decision then,” Foggy said, scrunching up the mountain of waste. “I’ll put this outside so the scent doesn’t drive you crazy,” he said, ducking out the door. When he returned, Foggy said, “see? You ate something. That means you’re getting better.”

“I’m not sure that eating a grease-laden burger counts as getting better.”

“Whatever you say, Mister Negative,” Foggy teased.

Matt left it at that.

 

* * *

 

The following day, Ian brought out the boxing gloves again. He watched as Matt slowly, but gracefully wrapped his hands before resting them in his lap. “Okay, let’s get you on your feet,” Ian told Matt. “Grab my arm if you need to steady yourself.”

The previous day, he’d given Matt more support than just an arm – virtually lifting him up. Was this some kind of test? Matt grabbed Ian’s arm and levered himself out of the chair, his other slightly shaky arm on the armrest.

“Good,” Ian said. “I’m just going to grab the gloves. “The chair’s just here beside you if you need something to steady you.”

Matt went to grab the wheelchair, but remembered Foggy’s parting words from last night, “give it your best, Matty.” He concentrated on centering his weight, feeling the ground steady beneath his socked feet.

“Good work,” Ian said as he returned with the gloves. “You’re doing well, Matt.” His tone wasn’t condescending, but in Matt’s mind, merely standing still wasn’t ‘doing well’ – far from it.

“Here are the gloves,” Ian said, nudging them against Matt’s hand. “Tell me if you need a steadying arm.”

“I-I’m okay,” Matt said. But his voice betrayed his lack of confidence.

Ian tapped the wreaking ball to indicate its location. Matt shuffled a foot in that direction. He gently leaned his gloved hand against the ball, feeling the give. It was lighter than his favored bags at Fogwells, but his lack of strength meant that it didn’t make much of a difference right at this moment.

Ian said, “Let’s do five minutes, and then we’ll take a break. Tell me if you’re feeling unwell or need a rest.”

Matt bit his lip and nodded. He briefly turned his attention back to Daisy, who was sitting serenely next to the wheelchair. He wobbled at bit, but managed to shift his feet into a more balanced stance instead of falling.

“Good. Can you spread your feet a bit? Make sure you get into the right stance.”

Matt grumbled, “I was getting there.”

“That’s okay. Take your time. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not made of glass,” Matt returned.

“I know.” Ian considered his next words. “This, um, experiment – let’s just say, I had to put up a fight to get this equipment. If anything went wrong, well…”

Great, Matt thought. More guilt.

Matt moved his feet into place and adopted his boxing stance. Concentrating on the wreaking ball, he hit it once, twice, thrice. He paused, already exhausted. He could easily go to sleep right here on the floor if he had the chance. He swayed slightly and Ian lightly touched his upper back, steadying him.

“I’ve got you, Matt,” Ian said. “Take a breath then we’ll try again.

Matt gritted his teeth and immediately turned his attention back to the ball. Ian let go as Matt got into a rhythm. “Tap-tap (because really, it was more a tap than Matt’s usual thud)---- tap-tap---- tap tap tap tap---- tap-tap--- tap---tap.” He paused after a minute. His arms were burning just from holding his hands up for so long, but instead of putting him off, it spurred him on. Unlike the pain of the IV digging into his vein, the alien mask rubbing on the sensitive bridge of his nose, the aches and pain following a seizure, the spasms in his back from lying down for so long, not to mention the almost endless headache… unlike all those pains forced on him by this stupid brain injury, the burn of muscle fatigue was familiar, welcome even. This pain was associated with work, victory, making something happen. This was the kind of pain that created endorphins and in turn, those endorphins kept the darkness at bay.

He raised his arms again, breathing out with each movement, a small puff per tap. When he withdrew a second time, his arms were shaking with exertion. “Um, could I-”

Ian had already pre-empted Matt’s request, pulling the wheelchair over just as Matt’s knees started to wobble.

“Good start,” Ian said.

Matt puffed, “start!” He shook his head. “I think I’m finished.”

“Take a break. Then we’ll do another round.”

Matt clicked his fingers at Daisy, who joyously leaped onto Matt’s lap. “Ow,” he hissed as her tiny paw drove into a nerve in his thigh.

“Ow,” Ian echoed. “Still, it’s not as bad as a 78 pound Labrador.”

“No, I guess not,” Matt chuckled. “78 pounds!”

“I swear Roly still thinks he’s the same size as he was as a pup.” Ian huffed in amusement. “He has run of the house. My partner thinks I’m too lenient on him, but what can I say – I’d want to sit on the couch rather than the floor if I had the chance too.”

“True,” Matt nodded.

“Now do you want to give it another go?”

Matt nodded. The dog conversation had had the effect of breaking the ice. He clicked his fingers at Daisy, and gestured to the floor. She jumped down, but not before lingering for a moment, disappointed that her time on Matt’s lap was cut short.

“I wish Roly was that obedient,” Ian said.

“Daisy’s not above shredding a box of tissues when I’m away from home,” Matt remarked. “My secretary looked after her in the first week I was here.” Matt chuckled, “I must remember to buy her a couple of replacement boxes when I get out.”

“Roly _ate_ a box of tissues,” Ian said. “That was an expensive vet visit – although not as expensive as the time they had to surgically remove a tennis ball.”

Matt baulked. “Truly?” He levered himself out of the chair as Ian recounted the tennis ball incident in way too much detail. It was only when Matt was standing back in front of the wreaking ball that he realized that it was the first time he’d stood up from a seated position unassisted since he was admitted to hospital. He gave a small wobble at the thought, and Ian once again put his hand on Matt’s back.

“Deep breath, centre yourself,” Ian coached. “Imagine there’s a line of string holding you up.” He removed his hand and Matt held his position. “Good,” Ian said. “Now back to the bag.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re looking better,” Foggy said when he dropped in after work that evening.

“I’m feeling better,” Matt said, combing his fingers through his hair. He’d had a nap immediately after the physical therapy session, but he wasn’t nearly as exhausted as he’d been the previous day.

“Must have been all the sugar and grease last night.”

Matt chuckled. “Unlikely. I don’t think I could do a repeat of that tonight, so don’t go getting any ideas.”

Foggy raised his arms in mock surrender. “Even if I wanted to.”

“Any news on Melvin?”

“Betsy says he’s settled in at home. Still no new date for the trial though.”

“Perhaps the police have discovered something about Pellegrini’s murder that affects Melvin’s case.”

“Unlikely. I think it’s just that the courts are so backed up with other drug cases.”

Matt nodded.

“I haven’t heard from Jessica either, in case you were wondering,” Foggy added.

“Well Danny said things have been pretty quiet on the drug front. It’s not just Claire who’s noticed a drop in the druggings. Maybe the guy got spooked.”

“I don’t know, Matt. This is a guy who’s targeting violent, dangerous criminals. I don’t think he’d be spooked by a PI and a man with a glowing fist.”

“Danny’s a good fighter,” Matt countered.

Foggy shrugged. “As long as you’re safe here, I’m happy to let those two do their thing. Speaking of safe and well, what do you want for dinner tonight?”

“Funny you should ask. I’m actually feeling hungry for the first time in who knows how long,” Matt said.

“That’s good,” Foggy said, a little cautiously. “Does that mean you did more boxing today?”

“If you can lightly nudging a wreaking ball with gloves, ‘boxing’, then yes.” Matt licked his lips. “There’s a place that does laksa near here, right?”

“Chicken or shrimp?”

“Mmm… chicken.”

Foggy grinned and raised his fist to Matt. “Come on, buddy, give me a bump.”

“For making you fetch me food?”

“For being hungry.”

Matt rolled his eyes, but held out his fist nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How exciting is the new Daredevil trailer! I can't wait until the 20th. It's funny, I wrote this chapter well before I saw the recent pictures of Matt donning the boxing gloves in his recovery. It now seems even more apt.


	31. Anxiety

Matt’s energy levels and appetite continued to improve over the next week to the point where there was talk about possible discharge dates.

“I’d like you to try one more anti-convulsant before you leave, Matt,” Doctor Millet said. “The frequency of seizures is still higher than I’m comfortable with. I want to get you at least back to your old frequency.”

Matt sat there mutely. He’d give anything to be back to once every three days instead of daily. There had been one seizure-free day this week – the first since his admission. It was glorious. The morning after the seizure-free day, his brain felt clearer than it had been in weeks. It was as if a blanket of exhaustion had been temporarily lifted. He was thankful for the reprieve, but knowing what he was missing made the subsequent daily seizure run even more unbearable.

The doctor cleared her throat. “Matt, what do you think? Would you like to try it?”

Matt considered the offer. “Would it be in addition to or instead of the- the- whatever I’m on?”

“It’d be in addition to your regular medication, but we’ll drop the second one you’re on. It’s a new drug that’s just come onto the market. If it works for you, we can always taper your regular medication at a later date.”

“W-what about its side effects?”

“The trials reported fewer side effects than the drugs you’re currently on, but of course it’s different for everyone. If you encounter a problem, we’ll address it.”

Matt angled his head towards his friend, who was sitting in the corner of the room. “Foggy?”

“Yeah, Matt?”

“What do you think?”

“I-I’d go for it, Matt. It’s worth a shot.”

Matt reached out for Daisy, who crawled under his hand. After a couple of pats, Matt said, “okay, I’ll try it.”

 

Matt was jittery as he took the first dose of the new medication that night.

Paola - the nurse taking the night shift - sensed something was up. “What’s wrong, Matt?”

“Nothing,” Matt replied. He didn’t want to admit his fears out loud. He’d not had the best encounters with side-effects: there had been drowsiness, the dampening of his senses, loss of sex drive, that disgusting rash, and a flattened mood. Then there was that time he was barely able to move for three days – although they never figured out whether it was the newly introduced drug or something else entirely. His fear was entirely understandable.

Paola studied him for a moment. “Are you in pain?”

Matt deflected by saying, “why is it flavoured?”

“What’s flavoured?”

“The pill – it tasted like artificial blackcurrant.”

“Oh, it’s because it’s soluble. They add flavor to make it more palatable.”

Matt wrinkled his nose.

Paola studied him for a moment. “What’s really up?”

“Nothing.”

“You miss Daisy,” Paola surmised.

Matt opened his mouth, then closed it again without a word. Paola was right to an extent. Foggy had taken Daisy home for the night following Doctor Millet’s appointment. Matt could use the furry distraction right now.

Paola was Matt’s second favorite nurse after Elsa (a scale that he’d only shared with Foggy). During his lengthy stay for pneumonia late last year, he and Paola had bonded over stories of their respective dogs. Paola’s dog – Rufus - made Daisy’s behavior seem impeccable (despite the tissue box shredding incidents). Paola understood the bond Matt had with Daisy. He didn’t need to defend his separation anxiety.

Matt pulled the sheet closer to his chest. “Yeah, I guess I’ve become used to her company. It’s a bit lonely in here without her.”

“I could sit with you for a bit if you’d like.”

“I think I’m going to go to sleep,” Matt lied. He appreciated Paola’s sentiment, but he wanted to wallow alone.

As the minutes passed, Matt could feel his chest tightening. His breathing sped up in response. He was no longer on supplemental oxygen and he’d been free of the associated monitors long ago, so there was no incessant beeping or alarms. It was just him and the mounting panic. Matt’s fingers curled into the blanket as he tried to slow his breathing. It worked for a few minutes, but then the headache started to build. He fumbled for the call button.

When Paola arrived, Matt gasped, “I think – I – reaction to the medication.” He held his chest as his breaths grew even shallower.

Paola tapped a button on the wall. She rolled him onto his side and instructed him to breath normally as she attached a monitor to his finger. He gasped out the answers to her questions, coughing a few times as his breath caught. He assumed he’d be subjected to the dreaded oxygen mask – after all, his previous breathing struggles had all ended up that way - but Paola just waited, watching the monitor while coaching Matt to slow his breaths. “Good, Matt,” she praised as his breathing deepened. “Breathe in, breathe out. Try pursing your lips a bit. In… out… well done.”

Another nurse came to help, but just Paola rattled off Matt’s vitals and sent the nurse away to call a doctor. “Oh and Djon,” she called after the nurse, “he’s just started on a new anti-convulsant tonight.”

“Breath with me, Matt,” she said, threading his fingers through his. “In… and out… and in… and out. Good.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “The doctor will be here in a moment, but just keep breathing in the meantime.”

Matt coughed as the panic started to mount again. Paola kept coaching him, but Matt shook her off. The medication was killing him and she was just telling him to breathe!

“Finally,” Paola muttered as a young intern entered the room flanked by Djon. The intern stuttered through his instructions, ordering supplemental oxygen and then cancelling the order again just as Paola had placed the mask over Matt’s nose and mouth.

“Leave the mask on,” the doctor barked when Paola went to remove it. “He’s just having a panic attack. All he has to do is lower his breathing rate.”

Paola ignored the doctor’s brusque tone and continued to breathe deep, slow breaths in the hope that Matt would mirror it.

Matt shook his head. He was clutching the mask as if it were a lifeline, too distracted by his anxiety to realize there was no oxygen passing through.

Paola said to the doctor, “Look, I’m not disagreeing with the diagnosis, but can you really rule out medication complications? He’s had reactions before.”

The doctor said dismissively, “it’s a text book panic attack.” He gestured at Djon, who was taking Matt’s blood. “The tests will confirm it.”

Matt’s breathing started to quicken again at the doctor’s unwillingness to help. He clutched at his chest. His heart felt like it was about to explode. He needed help. Matt reached for Paola, but before he could connect, he stiffened and started seizing. The doctor merely gave a huff of frustration and ordered the other nurse to fetch some lorazapam.

When she and the doctor were alone, Paola snapped, “you didn’t need to talk to Matt like that.” She pushed aside Matt’s oxygen mask and angrily unfurled the suction tube.

The intern looked incensed. “ _Excuse_ me?”

Paola didn’t look up from her work suctioning the saliva from Matt’s mouth when she replied, “he was anxious about the medication change. Telling him in the third person that he’s _just_ having a panic attack isn’t going to help him.”

“You can’t talk to me like that,” the intern said imperiously.

“I have an obligation to raise concerns about a patient’s treatment. Your dismissal of what is a genuine medical condition made things a lot worse,” Paola said.

“He made himself worse,” the doctor returned, crossing his arms. “If he’d just breathed more slowly as told, he probably wouldn’t have had this seizure.”

Paola shook her head in disbelief. “Are you going to rule out a medication complication?”

“Oh good, here’s the lorazapam,” the doctor said as Djon returned, pointedly ignoring Paola’s question. Shortly after injecting the medication, Matt’s seizure ceased. Paola tucked a few pillows behind Matt’s back to keep him from rolling over.

After ordering a few more tests, the doctor checked his pager, “I have other things to attend to.”

Paola ignored him, busying herself with Matt instead.

As soon as the doctor had left the room, Djon said in a low voice, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Paola said, breathing out with a heavy sigh. “Arrogant interns,” she said, shaking her head. “If only they taught bedside manner 101 at med school. Honestly, it _was_ pretty much a textbook panic attack – at least it would have been if not for Matt’s pre-existing conditions. But being condescending just made things worse.”

Paola peeled back Matt’s damp sheets with a sigh. “You know what makes things worse?”

“The fact that you have to change the sheets?”

“No,” Paola said with a chuckle. “Although I’d rather not do that right now.” She straightened her face as she looked back at Djon. “What makes things worse is I _knew_ he was anxious, but I didn’t do anything. I should have been more proactive.”

“You do what you can do,” Djon shrugged. “I’ll get some fresh linen.”

“You’re a star,” Paola said.

As Paola pulled off Matt’s socks, he moved ever so slightly. She dropped the socks and grabbed his hand. “Matt, can you give my hand a squeeze.” When there was no response, she rubbed his shoulder. “Matt, can you give my hand a squeeze please.” He let out a small groan, and Paola said, “Matt, you’ve had a seizure. You’re in hospital. You’re safe. I’ll stay with you until you’re awake. Give my hand a squeeze please.”

It took another couple of minutes before Matt responded to her command. He was slow to wake up – something not helped by the dose of lorazapam - but eventually she got a verbal response. He was less than helpful when it came to changing the sheets and urine-soaked pyjamas, but he was tired and weak and drowsy, so his ‘fight’ didn’t amount to much.

When Matt woke up late that evening, he refused to believe Paola when she told him he’d had a panic attack.

Paola said softly, “have you had one before?”

“No, I don’t have panic attacks.”

“What about anxiety?”

“Everyone gets anxious,” Matt said dismissively.

Paola studied him. Matt usually angled his face towards her when they were talking, but he’d lowered his head and had it tilted away from view.

“I think it would be good to see someone – a therapist. Doctor Millet might be able to refer you to someone.” When Matt didn’t respond, Paola continued, “do you want to call Foggy?”

“Foggy, why? What’s the time?”

“Nearly midnight.”

Matt grunted. “Foggy’s not my therapist. He’ll be asleep.” Matt scrubbed at his face and mumbled, “I’m going asleep.”


	32. The Hills of Ireland

“Hey, happy Saturday,” Foggy sung as he entered Matt’s room. “How’s the new meds? You haven’t turned purple yet just in case you’re wondering.”

“Thanks, Fog,” Matt said sarcastically. There was a pregnant silence before Matt realized that Foggy really wanted an answer. “They’re-they’re… fine.”

Foggy could sense there was more to it than that. He lifted the overexcited Daisy onto Matt’s bed, dumped his coat and bag on the armchair, and then perched on the edge of Matt’s bed. Foggy glanced at the oxygen mask draped over the bed head. It hadn’t been there when Foggy had left the previous night.

Foggy narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine,” Matt said, angling his head away from Foggy.

“Good, that’s good,” Foggy said, but his tone still suggested he didn’t believe Matt’s claim. “So does that mean Julia can visit? I’ve had three phone calls this week.”

“You and me both,” Matt said.

“Yeah, well, I think you should at least give her a concrete answer – even if it’s to tell her you won’t see her until you’re released.” Foggy paused. “I think you should see her at least for ten minutes or something.”

Matt shook his head. “No, let’s say when I get out.”

Foggy looked at Matt’s miserable face. “Dude, I know you’re in a funk, but you used to love hanging out with her.”

“Leave it, Foggy,” Matt snapped.

“No, I’m not going to leave it. I’m not going to deny that you don’t have reasons for being miserable, but you’re not even trying. You haven’t touched a single book,” Foggy said, gesturing at the dusty pile of braille books Foggy had ordered from the library many weeks earlier. “I don’t think I’ve even seen you listen to a podcast. Maybe if you just _tried_ to be interested in something, you might actually succeed.”

“You’re in no position to judge,” Matt replied. His tone was soft, but had a dangerous edge.

“I’m not judging you, Matt.”

“It sure sounded that way.”

“I’m just saying, you might start to feel better if you did something other than-”

“Sleep? _Rest_?” Matt glared at Foggy. “You’re the one that always tells me to _rest_. Now that I am resting, you tell me that I’m not doing enough.”

“You can rest and read at the same time.”

“Foggy, I’ve spent the last month asleep with the few occasional moments of wakefulness. If I had a choice, I’d be anywhere but here. I’d be with you and Karen and Daisy, and we’d be inducting our new employee, and everything would be great. No one is more disappointed than me.” He paused and repeated more softly, “no one.”

Foggy shook his head and wandered over to the armchair.

“What are you doing?” Matt asked.

“I’m going to let you rest,” Foggy said, gathering his things.

“But you only just arrived.”

“I have a couple of things I need to do this morning. You have Daisy. Give me a call if you need anything.”

Matt looked hurt. He knew he wasn’t all that fascinating at the moment. He really did spend most of his time asleep or just lying there listlessly, even if Foggy was present. But he assumed that Foggy was staying for the day. He’d become accustomed to Foggy’s presence at night and on weekends.

Matt drew his blanket to his chest as Foggy gave Daisy a goodbye pat. “See you later, Matt,” Foggy said, waving as he left the room.

Matt didn’t reply.

Matt stewed over Foggy’s abandonment for the next few hours. He knew it was probably unfair to expect Foggy to spend every single waking hour with him, but it hurt that Foggy would walk out like that… particularly after the scathing comments. For weeks now, Matt had felt overwhelmingly tired and bored, but there was absolutely no part of him that was interested in an activity like reading right now. He wished he could be interested in something, _anything_ …

Matt closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Sleep was the best way of passing time at the moment. But sleep wouldn’t come. Not now, not when it was convenient.

He rolled over onto his other side and tried again. Daisy jumped over his torso and scratched at his hand, wanting to snuggle into his chest. He sighed and untucked his hands and gathered her in. “At least _you_ haven’t left,” Matt said to her, rubbing her paw.

 

* * *

 

When Foggy returned that afternoon, Matt was lying on his back with the bed head raised 45 degrees. He had one hand resting on his glasses as if sheltering his eyes from the light. As Foggy entered the room, Matt dropped his hand to the pillow and turned his head in Foggy’s direction, but there was no smile or greeting.

Foggy blurted out, “hey, I’m sorry about before – what I said about you not doing anything.”

Matt played with Daisy’s fur, twirling it in his fingers.

“I know that your – um, well, head injuries in general – people often feel uninterested in things afterwards – I’m not saying that’s you, but... but I guess I’m just not used to you… I-I’m still getting used to a Matt who’s not trying to do everything at once.” Foggy took a deep breath and exhaled with, “I was upset.”

Matt pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Foggy’s breath hitched, expecting a heartfelt response, but Matt replaced them before speaking.

“I know,” Matt said flatly.

“You know what?”

“Everything you said.”

Foggy screwed up his face. “Okay,” he finally said, but his tone suggested he wasn’t convinced. He thought for a moment, then continued, “I guess shaming someone into wanting to do something doesn’t really work, does it?”

“Not really. No.”

“Is there anything I can bring you that might be more interesting than…” Foggy walked over to the pile and read the plain text printed on Matt’s braille books. “They’re pretty heavy books, Matt.”

“I’ve never met a light braille book.”

“Ha ha, I mean content-wise. Can I get you something trashy?”

“You just apologized about bugging me to do something and now you’re doing it again.”

Foggy bit his lip. “I’m trying to help, Matt. Name something that you’d like to do, and I’ll do my best to get it for you.”

“I want to go home.”

Foggy groaned. “Come on, Matt. Be serious.”

“I am being serious. I’m interested in being at home. I’m interested in being seizure-free. I’m interested in being with Daisy… and you.”

Foggy scratched his head. “If you could go on holiday anywhere – _anywhere_ in the world – where would it be?”

“I don’t want to go on holiday. I want to go home.”

“Hypothetically. I’m not about to bundle you into a plane. Just imagine – anywhere… where would you go?”

After thirty seconds of silence, Foggy said, “me, I’d go to Italy. I’d eat pizza every day. Oh and I’d see that giant naked dude… what’s his name?”

“Michelangelo’s David?”

“That’s the one.”

“Wouldn’t you get sick of pizza?”

“Oh come on, Matt. Sick of _pizza_? There’s no such thing. I mean, I wouldn’t just eat pizza. I’d eat gelato, pasta, cheese, wine, um, those delicious donut things with the ricotta… all the things.”

“I must admit it sounds alluring,” Matt said with a small quirk of the lips.

Foggy clapped his hands. “See? There’s some interest.” He perched on the edge of Matt’s bed. “Your turn. Where would you go?”

Matt said, “Ireland.”

“Of all the places in the world you’d pick _Ireland_?”

Matt looked offended. “You asked.”

Foggy realized his mistake and quickly said, “okay, what’s in Ireland?”

“When I was growing up, we had this poster in our apartment: _the hills of Ireland_.” Matt pronounced the title in his best Irish accent. “It was pretty faded, but I imagined them to be a rich emerald green in real life.” He added, “not that that would make a difference to me now.”

Foggy didn’t react, so Matt continued, “dad used to talk about going there one day for a holiday – the two of us. We had a jar that we hid under a floorboard: ‘the Murdocks go to Ireland fund’.”

Matt paused, visualizing the large jar that was stuffed with coins and small bills. He loved tipping the jumble of change onto the ratty carpet and counting their travel fund. As he arranged the coins and bills into piles on the living room floor, his father would good naturedly tease him (“Matty, you counted the jar only yesterday. Money doesn’t multiply overnight, y’know.”).Looking back on it, it would have taken them decades at that rate to afford an overseas trip, but as a child, he thought they were well on their way.

After the accident, he stopped counting. There didn’t seem much point considering he couldn’t tell the difference between a $1 and a $5 note. One day while his father was at a match, Matt decided to try anyway. He pulled back the floorboard and pulled out the jar. It felt different. Pulling off the lid, he ran his fingers through the coins – the _coins_. All the notes had gone. Confused, he took the jar back to the couch and sat there hugging it. When his father returned home from the match, he found Matt asleep on the couch, the lidless jar in his lap.

“Dad missed a lot of matches when I had the accident,” Matt explained to Foggy. “He used the travel fund to pay the bills. He said we could start again, easy.”

Matt remembered his dad trying to prove the point by immediately pulling out a wad of bills from his pocket and stuffing it into the jar. Matt could still recall the feeling of dozens of crisp bills rustling beneath his fingers.

Matt licked his lips and said softly, “he was murdered a week later.”

There was a deathly silence, then Foggy said, “shit, we have to go to Ireland now, Matty. You leave me no choice.”

Matt raised his eyebrows. “What about the ‘naked dude’ and the pizza?”

“Oh, there are plenty of those in New York.”


	33. Stay up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to write a season 3 fic, but it's not working for me so I thought I'd post another chapter of this work in the meantime.   
> I don't know how everyone else felt, but gee season 3 is good. So many feels! I don't think I'm giving away any spoilers when I say that the scene in the first episode where he hands that man the pipe - it's affected me more than I can say.

Matt ran his fingers over the first line of the braille-printed paper for what seemed to be the sixteenth time. Daisy sensed his frustration and nuzzled his free hand. Matt sighed and abandoned the task, crushing the thick paper under the weight of his hand.

Foggy knocked on the door. “Hey, has Father Lantom left?”

“Mmmm.”

“What’s that - this week’s reading?”

Matt nodded.

Foggy grinned and said cheekily, “and what have we learned this week?”

“Uh, I haven’t-”

“Read it yet,” Foggy finished, seeing Matt’s defeated expression. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to - uh, do you want me to read it to you?”

Matt nodded and moved the sheet along the blanket in Foggy’s direction.

Foggy squinted at the page, angling the paper so as to get a good shadow on the raised dots. He stuttered out the first line. “Sorry,” he said as he stumbled on a word. “I always get Q confused.”

Matt waved him off. “Everyone does. You’re doing great. Keep going.” Daisy stared at Foggy and wagged her tail as if to echo Matt’s sentiment.

“Maybe I should just google it.”

“No, you’re doing well.”

“Damn you, Murdock, and your encouraging ways,” Foggy joked. Haltingly, Foggy read out the braille text. He knew the letters by sight, but it still took him a while to calculate each word.

Matt tried to look interested as Foggy drew to a close. After yesterday’s conflict, Matt wanted to be seen to be doing something other than sleep, even if it was just for Foggy’s sake. As Foggy stuttered out the last word, Matt said, “thanks, Fog,” giving his friend a genuine smile.

“No problem. Do-does it help?”

Matt tipped his head in confusion.

Foggy clarified, “these readings – the religion – Father Lantom – does it help?”

Matt considered the question. He pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, leaving the glasses on the blanket. “I-” he started, before pausing again. He took a deep breath. “I can’t answer that right now.”

Foggy bit his lip. That wasn’t the answer he was expecting. Foggy held out the wad of paper. “Here’s the reading back.”

“Could you put it-” Matt said, gesturing at the growing pile of readings, most of which remained unread.

After another awkward silence, Foggy said, “so, have you done any laps of the ward today?”

Matt considered lying. He had no desire to get out of bed.

“It’s just that there’s nothing on the board.” Foggy was referring to the magnetic whiteboard, which had small magnets that each represented a lap. After completing a lap, they were moved across a tactile line. It was a solution devised by Matt when the hospital’s usual counting method – a whiteboard marker – was less than helpful.

“Uh, yeah… no.”

“You’re going to have to be clearer than that, councilor. Is that a no, you haven’t done laps?”

“Yeah, that.” Matt absently rolled the arms of his glasses between his fingers.

Foggy raised his eyebrows. “Shall we knock off a couple of laps now?”

Matt groaned. “I’m tired, Fog.”

“I know. But you should do it anyway.”

Matt rolled his eyes.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Foggy said, pulling at the blanket.

“No,” Matt grumbled, pulling the blanket back over his lap.

“Oh come on, Matt. Just _try_. You said you want to go home. You have to be able to climb those damn stairs first.”

“You promised not to do this anymore,” Matt snapped. “Yesterday, _in this very room_ , you _promised_.”

“Oh no you don’t. Don’t twist my words. You know this is different. I apologized for not being more understanding about your lack of activity and interest in things. I _never_ promised to give up on you. If you need a nudge to do exercise – _which will make you better_ – then I feel obligated to nudge you.” Foggy paused. “Or drag you out of bed,” he added.

“You wouldn’t,” Matt said in a low voice.

“I would. Watch me.”

“Can’t.”

Foggy rubbed his forehead. They were on the verge of yet another fight, and the last thing he wanted to do right now was feud with Matt. He took another tack, “okay, can I take Daisy for a walkies? She needs the exercise.”

Daisy jumped across the bed to Foggy at the sound of her name.

Foggy gave Matt sly look, “ooor, we could take her together. A loop of the ward, Matt. Just one, come on.”

After consideration, Matt kicked back the blanket. “This is not tacit permission to use this strategy to wear me down again,” Matt warned.

“Of course,” Foggy said, forcing a tone of innocence. Foggy held Matt steady as he slid out of bed. “Do you want shoes? Those socks look slippery.”

Matt shook his head. He clutched Foggy’s elbow - not for guidance but for balance. He used to be so proud of his exceptional balance, his strength, his spatial awareness. Maybe this was a punishment. Pride before fall and all that. He scowled at the thought.

Foggy misinterpreted the scowl. “Okay, no shoes,” he said.

Matt was no longer hooked up to the IV machine 24/7 so he no longer had the pole to lean against. He could now walk unassisted in Ian’s sessions, but it was tiring and he’d fallen on the soft floor of the physical therapy room on more than one occasion. It was humiliating. The thought of face planting on the hard surface of the ward hallway made him clutch at Foggy’s arm even harder.

“Hey, you’re giving me bruises there,” Foggy said.

Matt wobbled as he let go.

“It’s okay, Matt. My arm is yours, just don’t grip so hard.” Foggy nudged Matt with his elbow, promoting Matt to hook his hand around Foggy’s arm.

Matt took one step before stopping. “What did you do while I was with Father Lantom?” Matt took another couple of steps, but stopped when Foggy said, “Nothing.”

“Can you talk about something, Fog? It doesn’t matter what.”

“Oh,” Foggy said, cottoning on. Matt wanted a distraction. “Well, I can tell you about Daisy’s shrine to you.”

Matt huffed in amusement. He took another step, which Foggy interpreted as a yes.

Foggy started, “so, because we were both in here for like a week initially, I totally forgot that you might have washing in your dirty laundry hamper.”

Matt nodded and continued to shuffle his way towards the door. Daisy jumped off the bed and trotted happily behind the two men.

“I couldn’t find her last night,” Foggy continued. “She’s been disappearing quite a bit lately and I assumed she was hanging out on the roof, but when I checked, she wasn’t up there.” Foggy paused as he tried to figure out how to draw the story out longer. He felt Matt’s grip tighten ever so slightly and quickly continued. “She wouldn’t come to her name.”

“So naughty,” Matt huffed.

“But she did make a small noise when I checked your room. I looked under the bed and there she was, her little eyes looking at me from a kind of nest. She was lying on a small pile of your dirty clothing.”

“Under my bed?”

“Yeah.”

“How did she”-

“Yeah, I’m getting to that. Keep walking.” Foggy gave a small chuckle as he said, “so after finding her new hiding spot, I coaxed her out and then pulled out the pile-”

“I don’t mind if she-”

“And put it on the bed,” Foggy interrupted. “I’d rather her shrine be on top of the bed than under it.”

Matt huffed a laugh. “Shrine,” he repeated.

“Well it was. She’d created a nest of your dirty clothing.”

“Good work, Matt,” Elsa called as they passed the nurses station.

Foggy flashed her a smile. No one could say Matt didn’t have supporters.

Foggy hummed, “where was I? Oh, yeah, so your furry friend,” Foggy glanced down at Daisy who had her head held high as she trotted along next to Matt. “So I moved the shrine nest to the top of your bed - well, most of it. I removed your suit trousers. They were getting pretty dusty.”

“It’s okay if she wants my suit.”

“She has better - she has your stinky gym sweatpants. Believe me, she’s not suffering.” Matt stumbled a little, and Foggy stopped to put his hand on Matt’s back, steading him. Matt looked quite upset, so Foggy quickly went back to the story. “Where were we… oh yeah, so I was making dinner and I heard a noise from your room. I went in just in time to see her leap into your hamper and then jump back out with a sock in her mouth.”

Matt barked out a laugh.

“For a moment I thought she was going to start a new nest underneath your bed, but she seemed to take the hint and added it to the pile on your bed. She kind of scratched around a bit, building up the sides before doing her circle thing and curling up in the middle.”

They came to a halt as they got to the end of the ward. “That’s half a lap done,” Foggy observed. “What other stories can I tell you…”

 

Two laps later, Matt collapsed onto the bed. “I’m exhausted,” he groaned. “How can I be so exhausted?”

“Uh, brain injury?” Foggy offered.

“It was rhetorical,” Matt muttered. He closed his eyes then gave an irritated grunt, pulled the pillow from beneath him and shoved it up the bed. “Ergh, I’m so sick of bed. My back hurts from lying down so much.”

“Another lap then?”

“Another nap more like it.”

“I’ll take the opportunity to do a couple errands then,” Foggy said. “I’ll come back later with dinner, okay?”

Matt reached for his blanket. “Deal.”

 

* * *

 

Matt woke to the sound of Daisy’s low growl. For a brief moment, Matt struggled to locate himself. He ran his hand across the nasal cannula across his cheeks, piecing together the clues. Oxygen tended to equal seizure, which explained his raging headache and general fuzziness.

Daisy’s growling stepped up a notch, the low vibrations cutting into his brain. “Ngh, Da-” he mumbled, reaching in her general direction.

He threw his attention to the source of Daisy’s concern – the shuffling nearby, the smell of women’s deodorant, the slight squeak of cheap shoe soles, the smell of freshly laundered scrubs, a slightly fast heartbeat. Not someone he immediately recognized.

He rolled over with a faint groan. Assuming she was a nurse, he grunted, “can you- ngh…water?”

The women’s heart skipped a beat.

Matt felt his own heartrate increase. “Uh, who-?”

Without a word, the woman grasped his wrist just above the IV cannula. Realizing she was holding a syringe, he pulled away just before she connected with the cannula, shifting sideways until he was braced against the opposite bed railing.

Daisy let out a shrill bark, causing Matt to curl in on himself with his hands over his ears. The woman took advantage of his vulnerable position to grab his wrist again. This time the grip was tight, all pretense gone. Daisy leapt at the woman, causing her to stumble backwards, her hand still around Matt’s wrist. He twisted his wrist free and scrambled backwards so that the bed sat between him and his would-be assailant.

Matt clung onto the mattress, breathing heavily as he tried to assess the situation. He could hear the stranger sizing him up from the corner of the room. With the door behind him, he could try and make a run for it, but his legs were wobbly enough just holding onto the mattress. He was better off using the bed for support. He tried to sense the location of the call button, but his post-seizure brain wasn’t coming to the party.

The dislodged nasal cannula was hissing around his neck and he angrily pulled it off, throwing it onto the raised part of the bed. The air currents swirled around the pillows coming hard against the hard plastic call button control, but it was on the opposite side of the bed, far beyond his reach. He’d have to climb back onto the bed, and that seemed impossibly exhausting right now.

Matt edged sideways, clinging onto the side of the bed for support. He growled, “who are you?”

The woman took a step towards him, paused, assessing his reaction, then took another step. Daisy gave another small growl, but didn’t move from her position atop the bed. The dog looked at Matt, waiting for a prompt.

“What’s in that-?” Matt gestured with his head at the syringe. “What were you giving me?” He didn’t know what was more concerning – her silence or her still racing heartbeat. “You don’t work here,” he said, taking a punt.

“I-I do. I- I work on a different ward…. usually.”

Her heartbeat suggested that statement in itself wasn’t a lie, but she was hiding something. Matt licked his cracked lips. “Identify yourself then.”

“I-I need to give you some… thing.”

“What is it?”

“I need to-”

“ _What_ -” Matt coughed and his knee wobbled beneath him. _Stay up_ , Matt told himself. He breathed out through pursed lips and tried again. “What… is in your hand?”

The stranger stared for a moment before stammering, “Uh, do you want me to help you back into bed? You look tired. You should be lying down.” She obviously wanted her tone to be calm and caring, but it only raised Matt’s sense of alarm.

“I’d like you to leave,” Matt said, mustering as much bravado as he could. His tongue felt sandpapery and too large in his dry mouth as he spoke the slightly slurred words. He felt like a fool. “Any treatment can be administered by someone willing to identify-” He gave a grunt instead of finishing the sentence in full.

The woman made to walk out the door, but just after passing him, she doubled back and went to attack from behind. He instinctively jutted out his elbow, spinning around as she connected so that her own velocity was used against her. The woman staggered backwards, releasing her grip on the syringe. It skittered across the floor just as Daisy leapt off the bed and charged towards the woman. The dog gave a few shrill barks, just enough that Paola and Elsa came running into the room. The stranger stumbled to her feet and ran through the door, ignoring the calls from the two nurses.

Matt croaked, “security,” before slumping onto the floor. They both ran to help him, with Elsa, saying, “Matt, what happened - are you hurt?” 

Matt just gasped, “call security,” shaking off their attempts to help him up off the floor.

“I’ll call downstairs,” Paola said, running out the door. He followed her footsteps to the nurses station and listened to her press a single button. He shook off another attempt from Elsa to help him up, desperate to hear Paola’s end of the conversation.

“… Forty – forty-five years old, mousy hair, blue scrubs, left the ward thirty seconds ago via the west wing… no, I don’t think so… Matthew Murdock. He had a guard up here on the ward for a week after a previous attack… no, not for more than a week… hang on…”

There was a rapid clip clopping as Paola ran back into Matt’s room. “What happened? I have security on the line.”

Matt wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Ngh, I-I-”

Elsa leapt up to get a glass of water for Matt, which he gratefully chugged down before continuing, “she had a syringe… or something. I woke and she was here. She tried to get me.” He knew he wasn’t being particularly articulate but he didn’t care. This was all his post-seizure brain could manage right now.

Elsa gasped, “a syringe? Did she inject you with something?”

Matt shook his head. “S’there,” he waved his hand at the corner of the room where the syringe had fallen.

Paola went to pick it up, but Matt yelped, “no!”

“What?”

“Fingers- marks,” he breathed. He could feel the pin pricks of fatigue crawling up and down his cheeks. He closed his eyes, wanting no more than to lie down here and now and fall asleep.

“Matt, stay awake,” Elsa said. “We need to get you back into bed.”

“No,” Matt moaned.

“It’s more comfortable than this icky floor,” she pointed out.

Paola chimed in. “We’ll help you up on three. One, two…” They hauled Matt to his feet and leaned him against the bed edge.

“I’m going to get back to security. Elsa will help you into bed,” Paola said, striding back out the door.

Matt had no intention of getting back into bed, however. He wasn’t ready to argue the point yet, too busy listening to Paola’s report of the syringe. But there was no way he was going to stay another night in this place.

A security guard was soon followed by a doctor, followed by a security guard. Matt closed his eyes as the questions, the talking, the chatter on the guard’s radio started to overwhelm him. A soft hand on his arm pulled him back towards the raised bedhead and he collapsed against it, too tired to argue. Daisy nuzzled under his hand just as a monitor was clipped to his finger. “No,” Matt said, “don’t want… any of this. I have – I have to call Fog-”

Foggy came through the door just as Matt spoke his name. He ignored the hospital staff and the guard. “What’s going on, Matt?”

“They tried to get me,” Matt said.

“Who did?”

After a pause, Matt said, “the drugging people.”

“They were arresting a woman in the foyer as I arrived. Was it her?”

Elsa said, “they got her? Who is she?”

Foggy shook his head at her. “Matt-”

“Foggy, I have to go home,” Matt pleaded.

“I know, Matt.”

Matt assumed Foggy was just agreeing to placate him, so Matt repeated, “no, I _really_ have to go home. Away from here.”

“Yeah, I know, but we have to speak to-”

Before Foggy could finish, Doctor Millet arrived, followed by two police officers.

“You need to speak to the police and your doctors first,” Foggy whispered.

Matt’s room was by now stuffed with hospital staff, security and police. Doctor Millet cleared her throat and ordered them all out temporarily while she checked Matt over. “The evidence will be there after I check Matt for potentially life threatening conditions,” the doctor assured the edgy police officers.

“With all respect, doctor, I need to keep an eye on the syringe until it’s taken into evidence.”

“He can stay if this is brief,” Matt said. The doctor gave a nod to the officer, who stood patiently at the door.

“I’m going home,” Matt announced as the doctor started her neurological assessment.

“Matt, hold still, I want you on oxygen for just a little longer – maybe just an hour.” Before Matt could object, Paola darted in and looped the cannula under his nose.

“No, I don’t want this,” Matt said, ripping the cannula off and brushing the tubing away. “I’ll be home in an hour.”

“Your sats are still low following the seizure.”

“No, someone just tried to poison me and you’re focusing on a seizure.”

“He’s got a point,” Foggy chimed in.

Matt opened his mouth in surprise then shut it with an audible snap.

“Matt, can you please humor me and put up with the oxygen just until we sort this whole affair please,” Doctor Millet said. There was an edge of irritation creeping into her voice.

“I’m leaving as soon as the police have my statement,” Matt warned, but he let Paola re-fit the oxygen.

“They can do that now,” Doctor Millet said, with a nod to the police officer. “But don’t pack your bags just yet. We’ll discuss your options after the police are done.”

Matt scowled as the doctor left the room so that Matt’s dark expression was the first thing the second officer saw on reentering the room.

“Matthew Murdock?”

“Evidently,” Matt grunted.

“I need a confirmation,” one of the officers said.

“Yes, I am Matthew Murdock.”

“And I’m Foggy Nelson – a friend.”

“He’s staying,” Matt said.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Foggy saw Matt’s fists clench around the blanket. Foggy put his hand on Matt’s shoulder to try and calm him, and said to the officer, “someone attacked Matt. _Again_.”

“You took the guards off-” Matt waved his hand instead of finishing the sentence.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Detective Stewart,” one of the officers said. “You were quick.”

“A second attack on Mr Murdock,” the detective said. “Of course I’m quick.”

It was the same detective who had interviewed Matt following the previous drugging. He was pushy, but not unkind. To Matt and Foggy’s relief, he made the interview relatively brief so that Matt could rest.

“Hang on,” Foggy called as they made to leave. “Matt’s just been targeted for a second time. Who’s to say a third person isn’t about to attack.”

“Foggy-”

“Just wait, Matt,” Foggy interrupted. “Detective, how are you planning to protect Matt here? He was under police protection following the previous attack, but then you withdrew your officers and bam, it happened again while he’s at his most vulnerable.”

Matt gave a huff of frustration, but let Foggy continue. He didn’t like the suggestion of vulnerability, but it was true. He was a sitting duck in here. Weak, with muted senses… he didn’t have a chance.

“Officer Smith will stay just outside your door for now,” he said, shaking his head at the officer when he went to object. “I’ll see what I can do going forward. I’ll get back to you. But first, I think your doctor wanted to see you again.”

On cue, Dr Millet reemerged. “Now, Matt, let’s continue our conversation from before.”

“I’m leaving,” Matt said firmly.

“I’m more than happy to talk about discharge, but you’re still reliant on oxygen after seizures and-”

Foggy interrupted, “but I thought the oxygen went back up immediately after he finished seizing? Last time, you told us it was only a temporary dip and there was nothing to worry about.”

“Well, the latest head injury changed things a bit. You’re improving, but I’m still not comfortable with you being without supplemental oxygen after seizures just yet.”

“So give me some to take home,” Matt said.

“It’s not that easy.”

“I’m going home regardless,” Matt argued. “I’ll check myself out AMA if need be. I can’t stay here. Not after all this. I’m not safe.”

“He’s right,” Foggy chimed in. “You’ve failed to keep him safe on multiple occasions. Tell me what I have to do with the oxygen and I’ll do it.”

The doctor looked at the two men before eventually saying. “Is your apartment secure?”

“Yes,” Matt replied.

“I could arrange for in-house care I suppose.”

Matt opened his mouth to argue, but the doctor continued, “just as a temporary measure. I understand Foggy’s still living with you, so I could arrange care during the day and Foggy can take over at night.”

Foggy nodded. “I can do that.”

Matt opened his mouth to argue, but Doctor Millet continued before he could get a word in. “The visiting nurses can record your progress, assist you when you seize. You’ll need to continue your rehab as an outpatient, but they can at least help you do basic tasks when Foggy’s not around. I know you’re getting more mobile, but you’re still reliant on nursing staff for most daily tasks.”

“I have a friend who’s a nurse-”

“Claire,” Doctor Millet said with a nod. “She works in the ER.”

“Claire can help me set everything up. I don’t need anyone else.”

Doctor Millet sighed. “But she can’t be there 24/7. Please Matt, let me arrange at home help for you. Stay here tonight and we’ll set everything up in the morning.”

“No, I’m leaving now.”

“The nursing agency offices are closed right now. Tomorrow, first thing, we’ll arrange everything.”

Matt was quivering. “I don’t think you’re hearing me.”

Foggy put his hand on Matt’s arm. “Matt, whatever you decide, I’m behind you,” Foggy said, trying to keep his voice calm. Every time Matt had threatened to leave in a hurry in the past, he’d ended up seizing. “You have a few options here – one, you can leave now, but from the sound of it, it may take a bit of time to sort medications and things.” He looked at Dr Millet who nodded.

She said, “the pharmacy is closed, so you’d have to come back first thing in the morning to pick up prescriptions. It’d be a good four hours before the discharge comes through in any case.”

“Okay, so the other option is you stay the night,” Foggy said.

“No,” Matt said. “I’m not doing that.”

“Even if I stay here with you? You have the police at the door. I can call Danny. Daisy can stay over, can’t she, Doctor Millet.”

“Yes, of course,” the doctor said - anything to keep Matt from discharging himself prematurely. “And tomorrow we can make a plan for your treatment at home.”

“No need to bother Danny,” Matt said after silent consideration. “Okay, I’ll stay. _But only tonight_. I’m going home first thing.”

“Of course,” Foggy and Doctor Millet said in unison.


	34. You're gonna eat lightnin' and you're gonna crap thunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 35 will be more action-packed, but for now enjoy aaalllll the h/c

It was nearly midday by the time Matt and Foggy got home from the hospital. The trunk of Danny’s car was overloaded with Matt’s accumulated luggage, along with an on-loan oxygen concentrator, bag of medication, and detailed discharge plan. They had a greeting party of sorts waiting at the entrance. Claire and Luke were sitting on the steps of the building chatting, while Jessica was leaning against a wall far away from the group – a deliberate deterrent to conversation.

Matt felt for the door handle then stopped and frowned as he recognized the voices outside. "What's going on, Foggy?"

"I asked for help,” Foggy explained. “I-I wasn't sure if anyone was coming so I might have gone a bit overboard."

Matt gave a grunt of discontent. "Danny's more than enough. He packs a mean punch.”

Danny grinned at them from the front passenger seat. Matt’s praise was hard earned.

"I know you don’t like the attention, Matt,” Foggy said wearily. “But I asked Claire to help us set up the oxygen machine and it seemed easy to ask Luke as well. Plus Jess needs to be brought up to speed after this recent incident. Please don’t make a fuss. We’re just trying to help."

Foggy helped Matt out of the car then waited patiently as he leaned against the side of the vehicle to catch his breath. The ride home was enough to tire him out. Matt breathed in the sourness of the nearby trash bags, the gas fumes, the sweet garlic from the Thai place around the corner, the budding jonquils in the window box on the third floor. It was good to be home.

Luke cleared his throat, bringing Matt’s attention back to the waiting posse. "Foggy said you might need a hand with those stairs.”

"I'm okay," Matt said. Luke’s offer of help was enough to get Matt moving. He shuffled towards the front steps holding onto Foggy’s left arm. He could feel the muscles in his thigh quivering as he stepped onto the lowest step and heaved himself up. His head pounded with the effort and he clung onto the railing with his free hand, lightheaded and wobbly.

"For fucks sake," Jessica muttered, striding over to the hunched Matt and hauling him over her shoulder.

"Let me down," Matt hissed. He gave a feeble kick and tried to wriggle out of her grip, but it only made him more exhausted.

"Jess, put him down," Foggy pleaded.

"It'll take him a week to get up there if we leave him due to his own pride," Jessica said to Foggy. “I don’t know about you, but I have better things to do.”

"I'm right here you know," Matt muttered into her back. Realizing he wasn’t going to escape her grip, he shifted sideways so that her shoulder wasn’t poking into his bottom rib.

She cottoned on and gave him a slight push, hissing under her breath, “if you stop squirming, you’ll get upstairs sooner”.

Jessica barged through the front door of the apartment block, walking up the stairs with such ease that she could have been carrying a feather pillow (albeit a red-faced, argumentative feather pillow).

Matt felt like he should be putting up more of a fight, but the truth was that he'd been dreading these stairs for weeks. Still, when Jessica deposited Matt on the couch, he sat there scowling for a good minute.

Foggy came puffing through the door followed by Claire and Luke. Luke was single-handedly carrying Matt's accumulated luggage, including the pile of extraordinarily heavy braille library books that Matt hadn’t yet touched. Carrying all of Matt’s stuff up the stairs happened to be Foggy’s personal source of dread over the last few weeks; unlike Matt, he didn’t feel at all guilty about asking for help.

As Foggy approached the couch, he saw Matt's stormy expression and doubled back into the kitchen. He went straight for the kettle, calling out "who wants tea?"

There was a murmured yes from Danny and Claire, while Luke said, “just water for me". Jessica curled her lip. Her hand went instinctively to her jacket pocket, but she noticed Matt’s head tilt in her direction. She dropped her hand.

Foggy looked over to the silent, hunched figure on the couch. "Matt?"

"Uh yeah, um Earl Grey please." The scowling lessened thanks to Foggy's timely distraction.

There was an awkward silence while Foggy clattered around with the mass of tins, searching for Matt’s specific request. He found a tin of Lady Grey, shrugged and tossed the teabag into a mug.

"Um, I might set up the oxygen in Matt’s bedroom if that's okay," Claire said. "Or do you want it out here?"

Matt picked at the lint on his sweats. They were all staring at him. He could feel it.

Foggy cleared his throat. "Bedroom I think, don't you agree Matt? If we use an extension cord, it should reach into the living room if needed."

"I guess," Matt mumbled.

Claire raised her eyebrows. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," she said.

"I'm not ashamed," Matt bellowed, before reading the reaction of the room. "I'm not ashamed," he repeated, this time in a near whisper. He bit his lip. He just wanted to be left alone. After a month of absolutely no privacy, of constant prodding, uninvited touching and disturbance, he was desperate for time alone. Having a massive group of people in his house – some of whom he barely knew – was the last thing he needed right now.

Jessica huffed, "look, I'm not here for therapy hour, so could we just get to the plan or whatever.”

Matt tilted his head. "Plan?"

Foggy said, "yeah, Matt, a plan. You've been drugged three times now and we have no idea who it is and why you’re being targeted. You don't want a fourth do you?"

"I can handle it," Matt argued.

There was a heavy silence as Foggy, Danny and Luke exchanged meaningful glances.

Claire called from the bedroom, "don't be a martyr, Murdock."

Matt clenched his fists. Foggy wandered over with the cup of tea and on seeing Matt’s tell, whispered, "calm down. I'm not going to hand you this mug if there's a chance you'll throw it."

Foggy’s words just made Matt angrier. He struggled to his feet. "All of you _out_. _Now_."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Drama queen," she muttered, slamming the door behind her.

Luke peered through the bedroom door and called to Claire, "uh, babe, how are you going in there?"

"Almost done."

"I'll wait for you downstairs," Luke said, making a beeline for the door. He hesitated at the door and called back to Matt, “you know, we were only trying to help.” Luke didn’t wait for a response.

Only Danny didn't take the hint. He just grabbed one of the mugs of tea from the kitchen and sat cross-legged on the nearest armchair.

Foggy's mouth twitched at Danny's reaction. It seemed so obvious that Matt was about to spill over, and yet Danny either didn’t get it or didn’t care.

Keen to distract Matt from Danny’s presence, Foggy tapped Matt's arm and said, "let's get Claire to show us how this works and then she can head off too."

Matt perched on the side of the bed next to Claire. Her explanation of how the oxygen concentrator worked only took a minute, mostly because they'd had a more than thorough tutorial at the hospital. The buttons were printed with braille and the machine was pre-set with the prescribed levels so that there was little Matt and Foggy had to do other than turn it on. The doctor had instructed Matt to fit the oxygen as soon as Daisy gave her warning and to leave it until after his post-seizure nap or at least until his oxygen levels were back to the satisfactory range. They'd provided him with a speaking monitor as well, and instructions to record his oxygen sats where possible.

Matt’s concentration lapsed as Claire went through the numbers again. He was unlikely to find himself alone over the next couple of weeks so what did it matter.

Claire snapped her fingers. “Matt, are you listening? You need to know this.”

Matt frowned. “Uh-”

"Don't look like that, Matt,” she said, giving Matt’s arm a supportive pat. “It's probably only temporary. You’ve come a long way in the last few weeks. Your brain needs time to heal. It’s been through a major trauma."

“Probably,” Matt repeated under his breath. Bringing oxygen home was yet another depressing set back. Claire’s “probably temporary” comment only made it worse.

Claire stood up. "Any more questions?"

Matt gave a small shake of his head.

Claire gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I'll be here if you need me. I always am."

It got a small smile out of Matt. "Thanks Claire. I-I know I've said this before but you're amazing."

Claire waved her hand and said, "see you guys," and let herself out the front door.

Danny yelled, "see you next time, Claire", prompting Matt to mouth to Foggy, "how do we get rid of him?"

"Treat him like a leach - wait for him to drop off?" Foggy laughed. "No, but really, we could do with some security right now and he’s mostly harmless. Why don't you go to bed? You must be tired from the trip home."

"Mmm you're right."

“There's an admission,” Foggy muttered. Spotting Matt’s sudden change of expression, Foggy laughed, “oh and there's the withering look."

Matt ignored the jab. He climbed under the sheets fully clothed, pausing only to let Foggy pull his ratty sneakers off.

The movement was enough to send part of Daisy’s ‘shrine nest’ tumbling off the end of Matt’s bed. Foggy gave a small huff of amusement. “Do you want to take a moment to admire Daisy’s nest before I remove it?”

Matt raised his head. “Mmm... leave it,” he grunted. “If she likes it, I don’t mind.”

“Argh, you spoil her too much.” Foggy looked around. “Speaking of which, where _is_ Daisy? I haven’t seen her since we got home.”

Matt tilted his head. "Roof."

"Huh. Your hearing’s getting better then."

"Mmm slowly." Matt closed his eyes and pulled the sheet up to his neck, prompting Foggy to tiptoe out of the room, pulling the door closed as he went. 

Danny looked up as Foggy walked back to the kitchen. "What's the plan?"

"Um, I guess guard him at all times until he's well enough to do the Daredevily stuff again," Foggy said. “I thought maybe we could devise a strategy with the others, but it looks like it’s just us now.” Foggy paused and silently gestured at Matt’s bedroom, mouthing “he’s listening” and putting his finger to his lips. He whispered, “we’ll draw up a plan later. We’ll keep him awake otherwise."

Danny nodded and silently sipped his tea. For someone who usually chatted non-stop he could be surprisingly chill when need be.

 

* * *

 

Matt woke to the sound of the kettle bubbling away in the kitchen. He reached round and kneaded his lower back, trying to relieve some of the muscle pain. When that didn’t work, he groaned and turned onto his other side, burying his face in a mound of pillow. A month’s worth of accumulated dust whistled up his nose, coating the back of his throat with irritating fuzz. He choked back a cough, breathing through the itch. It was easier than reaching for the glass of water on his nightstand.

Matt threw his attention to the next room. He could hear to Danny poking through his tea collection. No Foggy though. Matt frowned and rolled onto his back, listening for signs of his best friend. Eventually he realized that his full bladder wasn't going to resolve itself. Unlike in the hospital, he couldn’t just request a bedpan.

He struggled out from beneath the sheets and sat on the edge, head down, shoulders hunched, gathering his strength. There was no way he’d make it as far as the bathroom alone. Remembering the spare cane hidden in his nightstand, he pulled open the drawer, scrabbling through the contents until he found the cane under the neatly folded scarf that once belonged to his father. Matt pulled the scarf out, burying his face in the coarse acrylic, allowing himself to get lost in the lingering scent of his dad for just a moment. Relief turned into pain and he quickly replaced the scarf, mentally scolding himself for being so self-indulgent. Lips pursed, Matt forced himself to his feet and started shuffling towards the door using the cane as a makeshift walking stick.

At the doorway, Matt cleared his throat. "Has Foggy gone to work?"

Danny looked up in surprise at the interruption. "Matt, I wasn't expecting you to be up so soon.”

"Yeah, well…" Matt started the slow trek to the bathroom.

“Oh! Do you want help?” Danny jumped off the armchair and offered Matt an arm.

“M'fine,” Matt croaked. “Just slow.”

When Matt returned from the bathroom, he repeated his original question. "Where's Foggy?"

"He went to the shops. Said he was going to make something better than the hospital meatloaf."

Matt gave an amused huff. "Did he now." He shuffled towards the couch, wobbling a bit as he sat down.

"I told him no pressure,” Danny said. “But he’s really taking up the challenge. He said something about an Italian deli."

Matt closed his eyes.

Oblivious to Matt’s mood, Danny said, "do you want a cup of tea? I can make you a cup of tea. You know, I found this amazing tea in Chinatown last week. I think you’d like it. I left it at the dojo but I’ll be helping Colleen out tomorrow evening with the junior class so I’ll fetch it then. You know, Julia’s doing really well. I reckon she’ll be able to move up a class soon."

Danny’s monologue was eventually interrupted by Foggy’s return. He was laden with grocery bags. "Hey Matt, you're up," he said, dumping everything on the kitchen bench.

"Just," Matt croaked. He didn’t bother to his eyes, even as one of the bags tipped sideways spilling tomatoes and eggplant onto the floor.

“Shit, they’re all bruised,” Foggy said. He momentarily ignored the mess and joined Matt on the couch. “Where's Daisy?”

“Roof. There's a rat she can smell,” Matt said, yawning unashamedly.

Foggy audibly shuddered.

“The rat’s not coming inside as long as she's here.” Matt’s words were slow and thick. He could easily go back to bed right now if not for the fact that he really _really_ didn’t want to move again.

Foggy looked critically at Matt. He hadn’t opened his eyes since Foggy had returned. “Do you need to go back to bed?”

“No.”

“Okay, well let me get you a better pillow.”

“Fog, I'm fine.” Matt reluctantly opened his eyes to prove the point.

Foggy retrieved a pillow and blanket from Matt’s bedroom anyway.

“Thanks,” Matt said softly, snuggling into the pillow and closing his eyes again.

“No worries. Have a nap if you want – just as long as you’re awake for Foggy’s special spaghetti with eggplant and tomato,” Foggy said.

“I haven't taught you that recipe,” Matt mumbled into the pillow.

“That’s why it’s a Foggy special. I'm branching out, Matthew. Learning some stuff of my own.”

Matt’s mouth twitched at Foggy’s theatrical tone. "Go on then.”

 

Ten minutes later, Foggy’s dinner preparation was interrupted by a groan from Matt as he started to seize. With Daisy busy with the rat on the roof, there was no warning this time.

"Ah shit", Foggy said, rushing over to the couch. "Danny, can you stand here and make sure he doesn't fall off while I-"

But Danny was already dashing into Matt's room to get the oxygen. He held up the unit. "Do you need this?"

"Oh yeah, thanks". Foggy wasn't expecting such initiative from Danny. Maybe he was finally maturing.

Foggy switched the machine on and hooked the cannula under Matt’s nose. It took a few tries to get the tubing to sit right under his nostrils. The nurses made it look so easy. "Mmm I think that's right," Foggy finally said, giving the tube a tiny nudge straight.

Foggy shook his hands out. This felt far beyond his capabilities. He knelt next to Matt before jumping back up, "shit, I need the monitor."

Danny returned with the monitor within seconds, which Foggy managed to clip to Matt’s shaking finger just as the seizure came to an end.

Foggy stuffed a pillow behind Matt’s back for support before standing back with his arms crossed, listening to Matt’s wheezy puffs. "I hate this," Foggy said. "Matt's got more bruises than when he was doing his Devil thing." Foggy looked at Matt's bare arms that were now rainbow colored with bruises in various stages of healing - a side effect of the many IVs Matt had been subject to over the last month. Foggy draped a blanket over Matt’s shoulders. The apartment was well-heated, but Matt had lost so much weight over the last month that he could probably use an extra layer. In any case, it gave Foggy something to do.

Foggy scribbled down the seizure length and oxygen sats in Matt’s seizure diary before making his way straight to the fridge. "Wanna beer?"

Danny looked puzzled. "Me?"

"Yeah, I don’t know about you but I need a beer", Foggy said.

"Uh, sure?"

Foggy placed a glass of water and a packet of Aspirin on the table next to Matt then went back for the beers. He took a swig from the bottle as he kneeled next to the couch. "Matty," he whispered. "Matt, you've had a seizure. You're at home. I'm here and Danny’s here. We're not going to leave you."

"He's not awake yet," Danny said.

Trying to keep the frustration out of his voice, Foggy replied, "it doesn't matter. It helps to hear my voice – for him to know he's not alone."

Foggy repeated his reassuring words to Matt over and over. When Matt finally started to rouse, Foggy switched to trying to get a positive response. Of course, one of the first things Matt did was pull off the oxygen.

"No, you need that, Matty. You want your brain to heal." Foggy refitted the cannula and held both of Matt’s hands to prevent a repeat action.

Foggy turned to Danny. "Can you find Daisy? She should be on the roof still. She'll calm him."

"On it." Danny leapt off the armchair and took the stairs two at a time. Daisy squirmed as he carried her down the stairs but her demeanor changed as soon as she saw Matt. She jumped up next to Matt, watching him intently as he fell into a deep sleep.

 

It was three hours before Matt woke up from his post-seizure nap. Momentarily disoriented, he tried to get away from the hissing sound coming from somewhere near his head. He waved his hand in front of his face, trying to stop the dry airstream. Something scraped against his stubble and he clawed it away. It caught on his ear, and then his arm, tangling up with something on his finger. He shook his hand away and reached out, trying to read his surroundings. Without the stream of air, his sense of smell returned... the ancient leather of his couch, sweat, woolen blanket, Daisy, hospital antiseptic, Foggy…

Foggy raced over to the couch. "Matt, calm down. You're at home. You had a seizure.” Foggy tried to replace the oxygen, but Matt fought him off. "Please Matt, you need to leave the oxygen for just a moment. I need to check your levels first," Foggy said, putting a reassuring hand on Matt’s arm, who momentarily stilled. “You’re at home. There’s no one else here if something goes wrong, so please let me reconnect you.”

"Home," Matt repeated. He scrubbed at his face. "Ngh… feel shit".

"I have eggplant," Foggy said, trying to distract Matt while he swooped in and looped the oxygen back under Matt’s nose.

“I don’t- I need,” Matt mumbled.

“I also have Aspirin,” Foggy said, shaking the packet. When Matt didn’t say no, Foggy popped a couple of pills and held them to Matt’s mouth. “Come on, dude. Take them. You’ll feel better.”

Matt swallowed the pills with an entire glass of water. He seemed strangely restless though. Brushing Daisy aside, he pushed a couple of cushions to the floor and struggled upright until he was slumped awkwardly against the side of the couch.

Foggy cringed. “What’s wrong, Matt? Are you hurt?”

Matt gave a small moan and tried to stand up. He keeled forward instead, crumpling on the floor in a heap.

"Oh God, what- here, Matty, give me your hand."

Matt pushed Foggy's arm away. He sat up with a groan and slumped there for a minute, breathing in small puffs. This time he didn’t protest when Foggy fixed the cannula that was sitting crooked across his cheeks. Nor did he pull away when Foggy sat close to his back so that Matt could lean against him.

Foggy could see the shininess increase in Matt’s eyes. He wrapped his arms around his friend’s limp shoulders, watching Matt blink away the tears. “I’ve got you, buddy,” Foggy said in a low voice.

They sat like that for a few minutes before Foggy decided the oxygen could be removed. Matt wrinkled his nose as Foggy peeled away the tubing. His nostrils still felt raw and dry even though the frequency of oxygen use had gone down. He knew better than to rub his sore nose though.

After Foggy had scribbled down the latest stats, Matt said in a whisper, "can you- can you help me to the bathroom?" He said it as if the request was something to be ashamed of, as if Foggy hadn't helped him dozens of times without complaint in the hospital.

With Danny and Foggy holding an arm each, Matt finally made it to the bathroom. Foggy hovered, unsure whether Matt wanted more help. “Fog, please,” Matt begged. Foggy took the hint, but looked nervously over his shoulder as he left Matt to his own devices.

Matt slumped on the toilet, nursing his head in his hands. He could hear Foggy on the other side of the door, anxiously waiting for a call for help or even a crash. It wouldn’t be the first time. Matt assumed everything would be better once he was home, but he’d barely been home a few hours before he’d had a seizure. He bit his lip, trying once more to keep the tears at bay.

Matt jumped at the sound of Foggy’s voice calling, “Matt, are you okay in there? Do you need help?”

“I’m okay. Just… a bit slow,” Matt sighed.

He went to stand up, but sharp pains of protest shot through his thighs and torso. He slumped back against the toilet. He could hear his father’s voice shouting, _get up, Matty. Murdocks always get up._

“Fuck off,” Matt muttered under his breath. He pulled the toilet roll off the holder – the only loose thing within easy reach – and threw it across the room so that it hit the row of bottles in the shower. The containers ricocheted off the shower stall and crashed onto the tiled floor.

“Matt, please say you’re okay,” Foggy called out. Ignoring him, Matt carded his fingers through his hair and pulled at the tufts, his knuckles turning white with the effort.

“Matty, I’m coming in,” Foggy said, finally opening the door. “I don’t care-” He stopped as he saw Matt’s red, teary face. His eyes drifted over to the cracked and leaking shampoo bottle and the toilet roll sitting in the damp shower stall, soaking up residual water.

Foggy closed his eyes in an effort to collect himself. He had strong opinions about Matt’s man-tantrums, but this wasn’t the time to call him on it. Foggy touched Matt’s hand and gently pulled his fingers away from his scalp. “Come on, buddy. I need you in the living room. You need to tell me if the eggplant’s ready. I haven’t advanced to that stage yet.”

It was such an unexpected comment that Matt hiccoughed a wet laugh.

“Let me help you up,” Foggy said.

Matt capitulated and let Foggy pull him up and lead him over to the basin.

“Even with your senses all haywire, you still have a killer aim,” Foggy said as Matt washed his hands. “What did that shampoo bottle ever do to you?”

Matt’s mouth twitched.

“Come on, let’s get you back to Daisy. She’s dying to get back to the rat, but I told her she has to stay with you.” Foggy chatted as he led Matt back to the couch. If Matt needed a distraction in the form of a Foggy monologue, then that was what he was going to get.

 

Foggy waited until Matt was fully awake and settled before dishing out his ‘Foggy special’. To Foggy’s disappointment, Matt barely touched the eggplant pasta, blaming his lack of hunger on the seizure. “I-I’m sorry, Fog. It’s delicious. It really is. I just-just can’t fit it in.” Not wanting it to go to waste, Matt offered half of his serve to Danny, who virtually vacuumed the pasta within minutes.

Foggy watched with wide eyes. “Danny, where do you put it all?”

Danny paused and wiped a bit of tomato sauce from his cheek. “Mmm?”

“Where do you put all that food?”

Matt snickered. He tried to cover up his smile with another miniscule bite. But the positive reaction from Matt made Foggy’s evening, so Foggy continued the teasing, “you’ve just eaten two and a half servings. Not even I can do that.”

Danny shrugged. “I guess I just do a lot of exercise.”

“When-when I-I was going out every night, I still didn’t eat that much,” Matt pointed out.

“Yeah, but you came close at college. I mean, you totally got your money’s worth on the meal plan,” Foggy said. “You were obsessed with protein. I remember you’d go to the gym and then head straight to the bain marie of chicken in the cafeteria.”

Matt huffed in amusement. “I didn’t realize it was that obvious.”

“Those muscles didn’t come from nowhere.”

Matt sighed and returned to poking at the contents of his bowl.

“They’ll come back,” Foggy said.

“Do you want to put on a m-movie or something,” Matt said, keen to change the topic.

Foggy looked at Danny, “this might be a good time to tick a movie off that catch up list of yours.”

Danny patted his pocket and drew out his phone. “What about Rocky?”

“Uh,” Foggy looked at Matt. “Do you think you can cope with another rewatching?”

Matt had told Foggy how he’d been subjected to Rocky and its sequels almost every week growing up, and Foggy had deliberately steered clear of it ever since. He’d let Foggy assume he was sick of the movie, but in truth, the memories just hurt too much. He could do with some memories though right now – painful or otherwise. Matt pushed his half-eaten bowl of pasta onto the coffee table, then deadpanned, “sure, but you're gonna eat lightnin' and you're gonna crap thunder.”

“Rocky it is,” Foggy said, leaping to his feet.

Danny gave Matt a puzzled look. “Eat lightning?”

Foggy snorted. “You’ll see.”

For the first half of the movie, Foggy watched with amusement as Matt mouthed the words in sync. He seemed to have the movie memorized. Predictably, Matt drifted off half-way through, sleep snuffling with his mouth open. It wasn’t pretty. He wasn’t asleep for long though – he woke with a jolt half way through the final fight scene, knocking a cushion off the couch in his panic.

Foggy reached over and clasped Matt’s hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh, nothing,” Matt lied. He sunk back into the couch and closed his eyes once again. The nightmares were becoming more frequent, which was exactly what he didn’t need now that he was sleeping more than ever. Most of the time he couldn’t even remember what the nightmares were about - just that he woke up with a general feeling of terror.

Matt forced himself to stay awake until the credits rolled, then said, “I’m going to bed. Thanks for the eggplant, Fog.”

“Prego,” Foggy replied, earning a small smile from Matt.

“You’ve been talking to the deli owner,” Matt said.

“I knew you’d approve.”

“Mmm…” Matt gave a grunt as he got to his feet, hobbling back to his room with the help of his cane.

“Do you need some help?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

Foggy rolled his eyes at the return of Matt’s favorite phrase, but didn’t push it. He’d got at least three smiles out of Matt in the last hour. Foggy counted that as a win.

“Tomorrow, we can do Rocky 2,” Foggy told Danny, earning a theatrical groan from the bedroom.

“Or not,” Foggy said with a small chuckle. He shrugged at Danny. “We need permission from the landlord here.”

“I’m not the landlord,” Matt called from his room.

Foggy turned to Danny and said in a whisper, “I shouldn’t joke about these things. He might start charging us both rent.”

“I’m more than happy to pay-”

Foggy quickly interrupted Danny. “Don’t finish that sentence, my friend. A verbal agreement is binding in the state of New York, and Murdock is ruthless in his pursuit of such contracts. You’ll be broke in no time.”

There was a snort laugh from the bedroom.

Foggy called back, “it’s nice to have you home, buddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written a post-season 3 story about Matt, Maggie and Foggy if you want a bit more Matt love: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16515110


	35. Skitch it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've pretty much finished a Stan Lee tribute story, but I thought I'd post this chapter in the meantime. What a wonderful man to give us such a great character as Matt Murdock!

Matt sat in bed, patting Daisy over and over, listening to the stranger in the adjacent room. She was playing some sort of annoying game on her phone with the sound turned low (but still entirely audible to Matt of course). Matt tried to remember if it was the same one Foggy was obsessed with a few months back. Sugar something something. He rubbed his forehead. His memory had gone to shit of late. Matt curled up on his side and pulled the pillow over his ear, trying to block out the chimes and bings from the kitchen.

Matt didn’t know what to expect from a home-care nurse, but it wasn’t this. When he’d reluctantly accepted Doctor Millet’s referral to the home-care nursing agency, it was mainly because he knew that Foggy was getting stressed about leaving him. Matt understood it wasn’t practical for Foggy take any more leave when the piles of case files were already forming a fort around his desk, but that didn’t mean that he liked the idea of a stranger in his home – a stranger who was being paid to play games while he hid out in his bedroom. Matt pulled Daisy closer for reassurance, but she’d had enough inaction for the morning. She crawled out from beneath his hand, giving a shake so violent that she overbalanced and fell off the bed. She shook herself off and skittered out of the room, heading straight for the rat’s hiding spot on the roof.

Matt gritted his teeth as the nurse’s game erupted in the sickening celebration song of yet another level completed. The nurse was definitely respecting his wish to be alone, but now he felt trapped in his bedroom. He remembered the words of one the sisters at the orphanage: “you’re a big boy”, she used to tease whenever he got overwhelmed by the presence of others and refused to leave his bed. “You’re a big boy,” he murmured to himself, sliding over to the edge of the bed.

He decided to visit the bathroom first – the first step in his attempt to reclaim the living space. The second step was to casually deposit himself on the couch.

 

As he shuffled from the bathroom to the couch (thus implementing step two), the nurse put her phone down with a bored sigh. “Do you need a hand?”

“No, thanks,” Matt croaked. “A glass of water would be nice though.”

After getting the water, she didn’t seem to know what to do with herself. She didn’t return to the cellphone game, but she did seem to have an extraordinary number of text messages coming in. “Answer them if you’d like,” Matt said, gesturing to the phone on the kitchen table.

“Thanks,” she said. “It’s my friend. She’s got a newborn and seems to think I know everything there is to know about children.”

Matt had no desire to enter into conversation with this woman, so he just nodded and settled into the couch cushions. He could hear Danny practicing jiu jitsu moves on the roof. Danny had eventually left last night after Matt had insisted for the sixteenth time that he and Foggy would be okay overnight, but Danny had turned up on the roof in the early hours of the morning without a word and had been hanging out up there ever since. Matt was debating whether or not to ask him inside, but he didn’t have the mental energy for Danny right now and the guy seemed more than happy crashing around on his own.

As Matt settled down into a carefully arranged mound of pillows, he heard a “whoa” from the roof. Matt tracked the frantic patter of claws in the far corner of the roof. “Skitch it!” Danny hissed. “Get it, Daisy.”

Matt smiled and closed his eyes. At least Daisy was enjoying herself.

 

Matt woke to hear the nurse shuffling around in Foggy’s nook. He tried to figure out what she was doing in there, but his brain was fuzzy and slow. He reached up to the plastic tubing snaked across his cheek. Another seizure then. That explained the fuzziness at least. He licked his cracked lips and called out, “uh, help.”

There was a pause in the shuffling, followed by rapid footsteps in his direction. He tried to sit up, but she said, “stay there. What do you need?”

“W-water.”

“Mmm… okay.”

Matt felt for his watch. He wanted Foggy to be home. Her presence in the apartment was one thing, but the intrusion into Foggy’s space was worrying. Matt threw his attention to the roof. He couldn’t hear Danny, but that could be because his senses were muted after the seizure. He could feel the Daisy’s heartbeat drumming against his chest. He held out her hand and she gave it an affectionate lick before nuzzling her head under his hand. The mere act of massaging her ears was enough to lower his anxiety.

“She’s good at the warning thing,” the nurse said as she returned with the water. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Matt hummed in agreement.

“You’re going to have to sit up before you drink this,” she said.

“It’s okay.”

“No, you need to sit up. You might inhale it otherwise.”

Matt rolled his eyes, but thought better than to argue. The nurse shoved a pillow behind Matt’s back as he got up on one elbow.

“Can you hold the water, or do you need help?”

“I can hold,” Matt croaked.

She nudged the cup into his hand and Matt downed the glass in one. “Another?” she asked

Matt nodded and the woman returned with another full cup just as Foggy walked through the front door, picking up the speed when he saw the tubing under Matt’s nose. He perched on the edge of the coffee table and said in a soft voice, “hey, I thought I’d come home a bit early. See how you’re doing.” Foggy brushed the back of Matt’s hand, turning it over and giving it a squeeze. Matt wordlessly pulled Foggy’s hand towards his chest. Foggy was about ask what was wrong, but was interrupted by the nurse.

“He had a seizure about two and a half hours ago. His sats are looking much better since he woke up from his nap,” the nurse called from the kitchen as if Matt wasn’t in the room. “I’ll take him off the oxygen in a moment.”

“Oh cool. I mean not cool about the seizure, but the oxygen, that’s good – not needing it anymore,” Foggy rambled.

After the nurse had disconnected Matt’s oxygen and jotted down some notes, Foggy said, “uh, you can go a bit early if you want. I have Matt covered.”

The nurse looked surprised, but shrugged and said, “if that’s what you want.” She packed up her stuff with unusual haste and made for the door.

Just as she reached for the handle, Matt said quietly, “you should return Foggy’s things first though.”

The nurse paused.

Foggy looked at Matt. “My things?”

“Yeah.” Matt gestured at the nurse and said, “return Foggy’s things and we won’t make a fuss. Otherwise I’ll call the police.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the nurse retorted. “You didn’t see anything.”

Foggy gave a bitter laugh and said to the nurse, “really? That’s your response?”

Matt tilted his head in the nurse’s direction. He didn’t know exactly what she had in her pockets with his senses all muddled, but there was something in there. “Foggy, can you see my cell anywhere?”

“Uh, no, but I can call the cops on my phone.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started dialing.

The nurse screwed up her face and said, “fine.” She pulled out Foggy’s silver Christening napkin holder from her pocket and a few of Foggy’s video games from her shoulder bag.

“Keep going,” Matt urged. It was just a punt, but the nurse pulled out a few DVDs, along with Matt’s precious noise cancelling earphones.

At the last item, Foggy said, “Seriously? Stealing from a blind guy?”

Matt urged, “Foggy, leave it-”

“No, Matt. I’m not going to leave it.” He pulled out his phone just as the nurse made a run for it. Foggy didn’t bother to chase her, instead saying, “hello, is this the nursing agency? This is Franklin Nelson on behalf of Matthew Murdock. I want to put in a complaint about the nurse you sent today.”

 

* * *

 

Needless to say, it was a new nurse who was scheduled for the next day. She was a large woman who talked in a crisp authoritative tone. Matt hid in his room once again, not really wanting to be around such negative energy. He snoozed most of the morning, finally waking up to the smell of toast and eggs. “Do you want to get up for lunch?”

Matt frowned. “I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat,” she ordered.

Matt looked taken aback. “I’m not hungry,” he repeated.

“I told your friend that I’d feed you. I don’t break promises.”

“And I’m telling you I’m not hungry,” Matt replied, his tone dangerous.

The nurse marched into the kitchen and returned with a plate and fork.

She shoved the fork into Matt’s hand and rested the plate on his lap. “Eat.”

There was something about her insistence that unnerved Matt. He gleaned that she wasn’t going to let up until he ate something, so he scooped up a piece of egg and brought it to his mouth. He caught a whiff of something – he didn’t know what, but it wasn’t egg. He paused, and then lowered the fork. “Actually, could I have some juice first? I’m feeling thirsty.”

“There’s water on your bedside table.”

“I prefer juice… please.” Matt hoped that Foggy’s juice was still in the fridge.

As she turned to get the juice, Matt scooped a couple of chunks of egg into the folds of his sheets. He pushed Daisy away as she rushed into eat the morsels. “No,” Matt hissed. “Sit.” Daisy sat, wagging her tail in an attempt to get food. He reached for his phone and whispered into it, “ring Danny.”

Danny answered in time for Matt to whisper, “I need help... I-I think.” He dropped the phone into the folds of the sheets just as the nurse returned with some juice.

She cast her eyes over Matt’s plate. “You need to eat some more.”

Matt held out his hand for the juice and was about to take a sip when he paused and lowered it to his lap.

The nurse tsked and said, “what’s wrong?”

“I’m just feeling a bit sick,” Matt replied. “I think it was the egg.”

The nurse’s heartbeat increased a little. “Sick how?” When Matt shook his head, she urged, “drink some juice. That might help.”

“Give me a moment,” Matt replied.

There was a crash of the rooftop door and Danny came thundering down the stairs, calling “what’s wrong?”

Matt inwardly cursed. Danny had the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

Danny’s entry had the woman suddenly on edge. She reached for something in her pocket and Matt yelled, “Danny, get back.”

Matt lunged at the woman’s arm, sending the egg and juice flying over the bedspread. He knocked a vial from her hand, just as she elbowed him in the shoulder. Daisy made a lunge at the discarded toast. “No, Daisy!” Matt reached for the dog just moments before she grabbed the food. “Daisy, go,” he ordered, gesturing at the living room. Her eyes drifted back to the toast, but she dutifully jumped off the bed with her tail between her legs.

Danny grabbed the vial, rolling under the nurse’s punch. He paused to study it just long enough that the woman managed to land a blow to the back of Danny’s head. “Ow,” he said, rubbing his head. But he didn’t stop for long. He kicked backwards, preventing a second blow to the head.

Not one to shy away from a fight, Daisy doubled back to the bedroom and flew at the woman’s skirt, clinging on with her tiny teeth. The woman made a few mad swipes at Daisy’s head. Stumbling forward, Matt barreled into the woman from the side. He dug his fingers into the nerve area in the woman’s lower back – it was pretty much his only weapon with his energy levels so low. But was enough that Danny was able to grab the woman’s arms and pull them to her back. “Do you have a belt or something?”

Matt limped to his bedside table drawer and pulled out a couple of large zip ties.

Danny looked at him as if he were crazy, but thought better of questioning Matt’s storage decisions right at this moment. Danny said to the shaky Matt, “are you able to bend down and tie her hands?”

Matt crumpled onto the floor next to the writhing nurse. “Let go of me,” she spat. “I’ll sue you for this.”

“Not when you try to poison me, you don’t,” Matt said, pulling on the tie so that it sat snugly around her wrists.

Danny whispered, “what now?”

“I call the police,” Matt replied. He pulled himself up using the edge of the bed and limped over to where his phone was still lying amongst the folds of his sheets. He said into his phone, “call Brett.”


	36. On trust

A few hours after the police had taken away Matt’s latest attacker, it was confirmed that the contents of the vial was the same hallucinogen that Matt had been poisoned with before, although this time it was in powder form. As Matt had suspected, the eggs, toast and juice were also spiked with the drug. He couldn’t believe he’d come so close to being drugged again - and in his own home this time! They were closing in, whoever they were.

Brett came to give Matt the news personally – although he insisted it was a courtesy visit rather than a professional one. Brett accepted a cup of coffee from Foggy (who had raced home as soon as Matt had belatedly thought to call him), but perched on the edge of the armchair as they chatted, looking uncomfortable all the while.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital, Murdock?” Brett looked at Matt’s ankle, which was freshly bandaged and propped up on a couch cushion. “You should probably get an x-ray or something.”

“The paramedics checked it. It’s just a strain,” Matt said, leaning forward to reposition the icepack. His interaction with the paramedics wasn’t quite that straightforward, although Foggy and Brett didn’t need to know that. When the paramedics had insisted on taking him to the ER, Matt had signed a piece of paper declaring that he was rejecting medical advice just to get them to leave him alone. There was no way he was returning to that hospital a mere two days after release.

Brett looked quizzically at Foggy then back at Matt. He cleared his throat, “to be attacked this many times, you must have really pissed someone off - I mean, other than me. You’ve gotta stop calling me in emergencies. You know I’m not your personal assistant, right?”

When Matt gave a dismissive wave of his hand, Brett said, “I’m serious, Murdock. Next time there’s an emergency like this, you call 911 like everyone else.”

“You’re the only one I know who’s not crooked,” Matt said. He forced a smile. “Thanks for helping.”

“Yeah, well I pissed a few people off by being on their scene. Detective Stewart’s a good man. You don’t want to get him offside.”

Foggy frowned. “We don’t trust anyone right now.”

“Not even me?”

“I’ve never trusted you, Brett,” Foggy teased.

“Well you can trust the guy at the door,” Brett said, referring to the young cop positioned outside the door. “He’s young, keen, and clean.”

“You mean he’s part of your C-team,” Foggy said.

“Look, he’s got skills. Graduated top of his class. Plus he came onto the force after the whole Fisk thing, so he hasn’t had the chance to-” Brett paused when he saw Matt’s facial expression. “Murdock, what’s wrong?”

Matt shook his head. “Nothing.”

There was a knock at the door. The young cop poked his head in and said, “sorry to disturb you, but Assistant DA McDuffie is here to see Matt Murdock.”

Foggy scrambled to his feet. “What?”

“I should probably go,” Brett said quickly, putting his half-drunk coffee on the table.

“Foggy, I don’t want- not in here,” Matt said. He smoothed down his hair, well aware that it was greasy and sticking up at all angles.

“Your appearance is the least of our problems,” Foggy whispered. He shook his head in an attempt to gather his thoughts. “No, this is what we’ll do: we’ll be polite, but maybe yawn a few times and I’ll use it as an excuse to get her out ASAP.”

Matt pushed his glasses up his nose and tried to sit up straight. He winced as his ankle protested.

Foggy frowned, “you okay?”

But before Matt could answer, Kirsten burst through the door. “How are my favorite defense duo?”

Matt raised his eyebrows. “Favorite?”

“Okay, maybe not favorite. It’s a race to the bottom with you people.”

Foggy crossed his arms. “You’ve come to our personal address for a reason, Kirsten. You want to tell us why?”

Kirsten eyed the nearest armchair. “Can I sit down?”

When the two men didn’t respond, she sat down anyway.

She cut straight to the chase. “I want to know why you’ve been targeted three times by this group-”

Matt frowned. “ _Group?”_

“Yeah, the group going around drugging people, including you.”

“How do you know that it’s a group?”

“Well, we’ve apprehended more than one person doing the drugging.”

“ _You’ve_ apprehended? You’ve done nothing,” Foggy said, the anger suddenly boiling over. “Matt had to defend himself on every occasion. It’s a miracle that he’s only been poisoned tw-once.”

The slip caused Kirsten to stop. She stared with narrowed eyes at Foggy, then Matt, then back to Foggy.

“Twice?”

“Once,” Foggy said, his face flushing. He’d forgotten the first drugging wasn’t public record. “They’ve attempted it th-three times now.” He gathered himself and said in a calmer tone, “it’s been a long day, Kirsten. I think you should leave. Make an appointment with our office. We’ll talk to you there.”

“I want to know what you know about Daredevil,” she said, staring at Matt.

Foggy swallowed. Matt had his best poker face on, but Foggy could tell he was unnerved. He hoped that Kirsten wasn’t quite as perceptive.

Matt tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, that day when Daredevil just showed up out of nowhere after going missing for what, six months?” She glanced back at Foggy, who was anxiously rubbing his thumb along his hand. Encouraged, she continued, “it was the day after you two got beaten up at the prison on a mysterious visit to Wilson Fisk and refused to put in a complaint - the day that your star witness got murdered just before he was about to testify - the day you got tasered by police, Matt. There’s a connection there and I want to know what it is. I want to know if Daredevil or Fisk have anything to do with these attacks on you.”

Foggy started, “Matt-”

Matt shook his head at Foggy to stop talking. Matt said in his soft-but-about-to-go-in-for-the-kill voice, “Kirsten, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you saying I’m to blame for these attacks?”

“No, of course not. No one deserves to be drugged, even if they do defend scumbags like Elliot Grote.”

“So what exactly are you accusing me of?”

Kirsten gave a frustrated sigh. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I just want to know what your connection to Daredevil is, good or bad.”

“I think it’s a bit of a stretch to link these druggings – or at least attempts to drug me - to Daredevil,” Matt said with a theatrical chuckle. “Do you think he’s going around poisoning people?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know why or what Daredevil does. I don’t exactly hang out with vigilantes.”

Matt licked his lips. “Okay, just say you’re correct. Why would he want to drug me of all people? And why would he corrupt not just one, but two nurses to drug me on his behalf when he’s proven his ability to get past heavily armed police guards?”

Kirsten uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

The silent stand-off finally ended when Foggy stood up and brushed off his hands. “Okay, I think this discussion’s gotten way too ridiculous. Kirsten, it was nice seeing you again, but please make an appointment with the office next time.”

Kirsten was still silently staring at Matt, who was pointedly angling his head well away from her gaze. She huffed and stood up. “I’m not your enemy, Matt. I want to help. If you’re in trouble - if you know something about Fisk or Daredevil, you need to tell me.”

Matt just sat there, waiting for her to leave.

Foggy chimed in, “Kirsten, instead of coming round to our home and harassing us, why don’t you put your time and resources into figuring out why those cops tasered Matt twice, leaving him with lasting injuries, huh? I hear that one of them is back on full duties already. What kind of message does that send the public that the police can injure an unarmed blind man without consequence?”

“That’s an entirely different matter,” Kirsten argued.

Foggy went in for the kill. “It’s not different. It’s political. You just insinuated that Matt’s involved with two of the city’s most polarizing figures. What are your real intentions, Kirsten?”

Kirsten took one last hard look at Matt before striding out the door.

“Bye,” Matt said under his breath.

“Shit,” Foggy said. “Why is she so interested in you? Is it because you flirted with her? It’s because of the flirting isn’t it?”

“Foggy-”

“Seriously, you flirted with the wrong woman, Matt.”

“It wasn’t the flirting,” Matt replied. He took a deep breath. “Look, I don’t know why she’s so interested, but I think I should move the suit. I can’t keep it here.”

“Good idea. I’ll call Karen. Maybe she could-”

“No. I-I don’t want to implicate her… where is Karen anyway? I haven’t heard from her for days.”

Foggy started pacing between the armchair and the couch. Matt noted the slight change Foggy’s heartbeat at the mention of Karen, but before he could follow up, Foggy blurted out, “you don’t think Kirsten will work out your secret, do you?”

“No, I’m blind.”

“It’s not an entirely foolproof alibi you know,” Foggy pointed out. “I’m not so sure it was helpful suggesting it was Daredevil doing the druggings either.”

Matt pulled off his glasses and tossed them onto the coffee table. He rubbed his eyes. “It wasn’t planned, Foggy. I panicked. I-I don’t know what to do,” he finally admitted. “I feel so penned in. And if it helps, she didn’t believe that Daredevil’s the culprit – I-I don’t think so anyway.”

They were interrupted by a sharp knock on the roof access door. Foggy jumped a mile.

“It’s fine. It’s just Danny. He must be back from the station,” Matt said to Foggy, before calling out, “come in, Danny.”

Danny jumped down the stairs, two at a time. “Hey guys, I-I have a proposal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few days ago I posted a short tribute to Stan Lee called Stan-God. It's set after season 3 and features hallucinating!Matt. Here's the link if you're interested: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16625672


	37. Stay away

“You want us to move into your penthouse?”

“Yeah, you can stay as long as you want,” Danny replied. “I don’t stay there much. It’s so big and glass and shiny metal and tiles… I-I prefer wood – like your loft, or Colleen’s dojo. Wood, it’s soft, warm to the touch, absorbs sound… I feel like it really connects with me-”

“Okay, okay,” Foggy said, not wanting to hear an entire monologue on the semiotics of wood.

“Okay- as in yes, you’ll move in?”

Foggy turned to Matt. “Matt, what do you think?”

Matt looked oddly amused. “I’m with Danny on needing the warmth of wood. It’s soft on the ears too-”

“Matt, to the point,” Foggy pleaded.

Matt grimaced. “I must admit Danny’s place is probably more secure than here… at least for now.”

“And I have an elevator,” Danny said quickly. “You don’t have to climb stairs.”

“Mmm true”. Matt had been dreading the physical therapy and doctors appointments scheduled for the following day. It was not so much the appointments he was afraid of, but rather the climbing of six flights of stairs to get home.

Danny bounced up and down on his toes, excited that his proposal was even being considered. “I can put a dog grass patch on the balcony for Daisy – like the one you have on the roof. There’s plenty of room.”

“I hope you have a rat for her to chase,” Matt deadpanned. “If not, we could bring the rat with us I guess.”

Foggy gave Matt a playful punch. “Don’t even joke about it.”

Matt gestured towards the front door. “We’ll have to do something about our C-team cop.”

“He could move to Danny’s building - sit in the foyer,” Foggy suggested.

Still unconvinced, Matt replied, “but what if the police are in on it?”

“You heard Brett. The guy’s clean.”

“For now,” Matt said. “Everyone is corruptible.”

“Not me,” Danny said brightly.

“ _Everyone_ ,” Matt insisted.

“Way to bring the mood down, Murdock,” Foggy said, giving Matt another playful punch. “I’m going to pack. We should tell Claire – and Jess.” Foggy said, ticking off the to do list on his fingers. “I guess we’re going to have to set up the oxygen again too.” He looked at Matt, who was carding his fingers through his hair. “So are we doing this?”

Matt sighed. “Yes, let’s go.”

The decision to leave was one thing, but deciding on their exit strategy turned into quite the headache. Matt suggested climbing down the fire escape to avoid explaining their actions to the police, but as Danny helpfully observed, Matt was in no shape to scale the side of the building.

Foggy rolled his eyes. “Have we finished with the nonsense talk? No one is scaling anything. Can you both just think like normal people for once?”

Matt opened his mouth to argue, but Foggy got in first. “Think about this logically, guys. The police will notice we’re gone and then there’ll be a crazy hunt.” He paused as he ran through the possible consequences in his head. “No, it makes sense to keep them on our side.”

Matt still wasn’t sold on the notion of open communication. He understandably anxious about sharing his new address with anyone. He put up argument after argument, but was ultimately overruled by Foggy. Grumbling about agency, Matt limped back to his bedroom to pack. He barely lasted a minute on his feet before he experienced a wave of fatigue-induced nausea and stumbled over to his bed.

It meant that when Foggy had finished his own packing and went to check on Matt’s progress, he found his friend draped over the edge of his bed, looking utterly miserable. “What in earth are you doing, Matt?”

“Packing,” Matt grumbled.

Foggy gave a huff of frustration and pulled out Matt’s ancient gym bag. He rooted through Matt’s top drawer. “How many pairs of socks do you want?”

Matt shrugged.

“Come on Matt, be decisive.”

“Depends how long we stay.”

“Seven then.”

Matt raised his head, a puzzled expression on his face.

“We can wash them if we stay more than a week,” Foggy said.

“A _week_? I thought a couple of days-”

“Can we not argue about this right now,” Foggy snapped. “I just want to get out of here.”

They finished the packing in relative silence with only the occasional direction from Matt. As Foggy zipped up the bag ready to go, Matt levered himself off the bed, leaning heavily on his cane. There was a snapping sound and Matt fell back onto the mattress.

Foggy scooped up the cane.

Matt sat up. “How bad is it?”

Foggy handed Matt the mangled stick. “Where’s your stash of spares?”

Matt felt the section of cane that was cracked and bent. He should have sensed the stress fractures forming. He ran his finger up and down the other sections, feeling the minute cracks in the metal.

In a tone of urgency, Foggy repeated, “Matt, your spares?”

“I’ll use Melvin’s cane,” Matt said, pointing at the cupboard. “I can count on that not to break.” He sat there for a moment before hurling the broken cane at the trash. “There’s $30 gone,” Matt said, his tone one of sad resignation rather than anger.

“Maybe you should get a regular walking stick for now. Your white canes were never designed to carry your weight. Where-” Foggy paused as he found Matt’s stash. “You have half a dozen spares in here. Why do you have so many? Is this some kind of survivalist thing?”

“I went through a phase of uh, I guess you could say – uh, losing them,” Matt said. “It-it just seemed easier…” He didn’t finish the sentence. “Uh, let’s get back to packing,” he said as way of distraction. “We have to gather Daisy’s stuff.”

 

* * *

 

Matt clicked his fingers as he entered Danny’s cavernous penthouse. It was as Danny had described: glass, metal, ceramic tiles… all with their own distinct and very loud acoustic signatures. Leaning on Melvin’s cane, Matt limped into the main space, clicking his fingers at intervals. Foggy took Matt’s arm, “come on, you need to keep that ankle elevated. There’s a couch with your name on it over here.”

Matt let Foggy lead him over to the squishy leather couch. The factory-fresh upholstery foam needed more off gassing in Matt’s opinion, but he’d take any seat over standing right now.

“Matt, why are you making that face?”

Matt frowned, “what face?”

“Your disapproving face,” Foggy said.

“I-I don’t disapprove.”

Foggy studied Matt for a second then said, “good, because we’re not going anywhere else today. I’m going to text Karen to say we’re here and safe, and then I’m going to have a beer… because I can.”

Sensing Foggy was on the edge of a meltdown, Matt just nodded. As Foggy tapped out the message to Karen, Matt listened to Daisy snuffling around the room exploring every corner. Using her as a reference point, Matt mapped the open plan bottom floor: kitchen, living, one bedroom with ensuite, study, laundry.... Daisy paused in the kitchen, sniffing up the side of a cupboard. The trash, Matt deduced.

His focus changed as Danny yelled, “hey, Matt, catch.”

There was a squawk of fear from Foggy just as Matt plucked the wooden walking stick from the air. Matt twisted it, surprised at its heft. “What’s this?”

“Just while your ankle’s healing. Colleen gave it to me when I hurt my knee a few months back. It’s got a tiny dragon on the top.”

Matt ran his fingers over the well-worn handle. He forced a smile. “Thanks.”

Foggy stared at Matt. He expected immediate rejection, but Matt seemed sadly resigned to his limitations. Even though Foggy was pleased Matt was accepting help, he couldn’t help but worry about his friend’s mental health.

After a pregnant silence, Matt said, “I’m feeling pretty tired. Is there a bed-”

“Oh, yeah,” Danny said, jumping into gear. “I’ve set up a room downstairs for you. Most of the bedrooms are all upstairs,” he said, gesturing at the glass staircase in the corner. “I figured you’d probably be better off without stairs.”

Matt struggled to his feet. “Lead the way.”

 

Matt lay in bed, taking in his surroundings. Like the couch, the mattress was new, the sheets were new, the carpet was new, and the dresser was new. He reached out and touched the bedside table, feeling the beveled edges of the glass top. Everything was cold and sharp. No wonder Danny spent so much time in other people’s homes. He could hear Danny and Foggy whispering in the living area. There was a pop of a bottle top, and then another, followed by the crunch of chips. Matt got a whiff of fake cheese powder. He pulled Daisy close and buried his nose in her fur. She didn’t smell great, but it was far better than triple cheese corn chips.

“There’s no way we’re letting another contract nurse near him,” Foggy said in a hushed tone. “But I have a client coming into the office at 9am. I can’t stay home and watch him myself.”

“I’ll be here,” Danny whispered back. “I know what to do if-when-.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want to put it on you.”

“I’m an adult, Foggy. I’ve watched what you do after a seizure many times over.”

After a pause, Foggy said, “I’m going to call Claire. See if she can help.”

It was followed by a lengthy silence before Danny announced he was going to bed. He seemed less than happy with Foggy’s judgment.

* * *

 

The ‘Matt-sitting’ stand-off was resolved by the next morning. Danny accompanied Matt to the outpatient neurology unit at the hospital for his series of appointments. Matt begrudgingly admitted that walking the distance through labyrinthine hallways was beyond him right now, so Danny helped Matt into a wheelchair and pushed him from the appointment with Dr Millet, to his speech therapy session and then to his physical therapy session.

To Matt’s frustration, Ian sent Matt straight to radiology for an ankle x-ray. By the time Matt returned to the exercise room with the x-rays demonstrating (as Matt already knew) that the ankle injury was just a sprain, he was crabby and tired. Ian had become quite adept at reading Matt’s moods over the last month and decided not to push him this time. Instead, they spent most of the session discussing the previous night’s events until Ian realized their time was up and hurriedly gave Matt a series of exercises to do at home.

It was afternoon when they returned to Danny’s apartment. Matt was ready to keel over from exhaustion.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” Matt said after Danny helped him to the couch. “You probably have stuff to do.”

Danny shrugged. “No, I’m happy here.”

Matt frowned. “I have everything here if I need it.”

“I know. But I’m happy to stay. I can shut up if you want to rest.”

Matt winced at the sharpness with which Danny said the words ‘shut up’. Perhaps he and Foggy hadn’t been so subtle in their reaction to Danny’s incessant chatter. Then again, they also hadn’t been as kind to Danny as they should have been. It was dawning on Matt just how generous Danny was – and not just in terms of financial support. Danny had spent two days on the roof of Matt’s apartment, exposed to the weather and with little thanks. Matt’s face flushed with embarrassment as he thought back to how quickly Danny had responded to the call for help yesterday - how he hadn’t complained when Matt had snapped at him over breakfast - how he persisted with a friendship. Matt realized that he hadn’t really thanked Danny. Not really. Not beyond mere words at least.

“When you were at K’un-Lun, who took care of you?” It was Matt’s olive branch – a way of saying _I care_.

Danny did a double take. Matt rarely expressed interest in his personal life. “Oh, um, I-I had a sort of adoptive mother and father – a brother too.”

“What were they like?”

“Okay,” Danny said.

Matt raised his eyebrows.

Danny continued, “my brother and I were pretty competitive, but we were great friends. Well, we were… until I won the right to challenge the dragon.”

“What happened?”

Danny screwed up his face. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said after consideration.

Matt bit his lip. That’s not what he expected from Danny. “I understand,” Matt said quietly.

Danny brightened a little when he realized Matt wasn’t going to push. “You know where I’m coming from,” Danny said. “We both lost our parents. Got taught to fight.” He sighed. “They said it was fate at K’un-Lun.”

Matt tilted his head. “Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know,” Danny said. “I’m still trying to work that out. I feel like I cause havoc wherever I go. If it’s fate, it kind of lets me off the hook.”

Matt huffed in amusement. “I feel the same – about the havoc. I’ve drawn you all into this saga with the druggings. I’ve put you in danger. You and Foggy and Karen and-”

“We’re not doing anything we don’t want to do,” Danny said.

Matt angled his face away. He didn’t want to argue right now. He slid to the edge of the couch. “I think I’m going to have a lie down. All those appointments have me beat.” With a wobbly arm, he pushed himself up with the help of his stick and limped to his room.

Matt fell asleep to the sound of Danny throwing aluminum foil balls across the room for the overexcited Daisy.

 

* * *

 

The next few days were gloriously uneventful. Matt passed the hours mostly asleep, or on a couple of occasions keeping Danny company while he ticked movies off his ‘must watch’ list (until Matt fell asleep of course). Friday came and went without a seizure, which Foggy put down to Matt being able to relax away from the hospital and potential attacks. Matt didn’t dare speculate. He was just thankful for the slight lift in lethargy.

Even then, on Saturday when Matt finally agreed to have Julia visit for the first time since the tasering, he still felt utterly tired and listless.

Julia clicked her tongue as she walked into the apartment, and made a beeline for Matt almost immediately. Elizabeth squawked, “no, Julia, be careful,” as Julia leapt onto the couch to give Matt a hug.

Matt croaked out a “hi,” but was interrupted by the excited little girl before he could even think of another word. Julia barely took a breath as she told him all about her new martial arts skills. “Can I show you, Matt?” she said, jumping off the couch.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. She still wasn’t aware of Matt’s abilities, although she’d gleaned that Julia’s senses and strength were not at all normal. “Um, Jules darling, I think Matt might have some trouble seeing you-”

“No, it’s fine,” Matt quickly interrupted. “Show me what you’ve learned, Julia.”

Julia struck a pose then went into a complicated series of moves. She finished with a backwards flip, which Elizabeth obviously hadn’t seen before because she gave a gasp as Julia launched herself upside down. In a shaky voice, Elizabeth said, “that-that was very impressive, Jules, but next time I think it’s better to do it on carpet rather than tiles.”

Matt said, “your mum’s right. You don’t want to end up like me with a broken head.”

Foggy groaned as he returned from the kitchen armed with snacks for them all. “That’s a bit dramatic, Matt.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, Matt,” Julia parroted, jumping back onto the couch.

Matt cleared his throat. “Tell me about school,” he said to the fidgety little girl. Matt felt like he was going through the motions, feigning interest in his mentee’s progress. If he couldn’t be interested in this – his living, breathing project – then what hope was there for any other activity he once treasured?

Matt sat silently as Julia chatted about her new friend at school, peppered with the occasional question from Foggy or Elizabeth.

Sensing Matt’s tiredness, Foggy eventually suggested they watch a movie. “I’ve been practicing Frozen,” he said. “I think I have Olaf perfected.” He cleared his throat and said in a cutesy voice, “some people are worth melting for.” Julia clapped her hands and settled back into the couch.

Matt fell asleep a mere fifteen minutes into the movie, waking only when the end credits started to roll. He woke to Julia poking him. “Matt, wake up, wake up,” she said over and over.

“Julia Carpenter, stop that immediately,” Elizabeth snapped.

Matt wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Wha-?”

“We just finished the movie,” Foggy said.

Matt yawned and closed his eyes again.

Julia chirped, “can we do something, Matt? I want to do something interesting.”

Matt was close to falling asleep again. He forced his eyes open and mumbled, “Ngh… what? I don’t-”

But Matt didn’t get to finish the sentence. Tiny fists pounded his arm and his ribs. “You never do anything anymore. You’re boring. You just sleep. You _promised_ me. You promised to teach me how to fight like you. You’re a _liar_ ,” Julia yelled, hitting him over and over. Matt protectively curled in on himself while Elizabeth and Foggy launched themselves at the small girl. Elizabeth pulled Julia off Matt, but Julia kicked her mother in the shin from her spot on the couch, making Elizabeth stumble backwards. Foggy wasn’t one to get physically involved with anything; instead, he said, “Julia, calm down. You can’t go around hitting people, especially people who care about you.”

Julia gave a kick in Foggy’s direction before moving back towards Matt. Quick as a flash, Matt reached out and grabbed both her wrists. “ _No_ ,” he said sternly. “No.”

Julia screamed and kicked wildly at the air. “Let me go. Let me go. Let me _go_!”

“No, not until you promise not to hurt anyone,” Matt growled.

“But _you_ hurt people. You beat up those men.”

“Julia-” Matt started in a warning tone, but Elizabeth interrupted with “what men?”

Julia stopped squirming and said in a sulky voice, “the men in the street. They had knives.”

Elizabeth looked at Matt then to Foggy and back to Matt. “When was this?”

Matt furrowed his brow. “Uh, about – um, it was just after Julia started learning martial arts.”

Elizabeth hummed as everything clicked into place. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-I didn’t want you to worry.”

Elizabeth said crisply, “please take your hands off my daughter.”

Matt let go of Julia’s wrists and she scrambled backwards. There was a sniff as Julia started crying. Not taking her eyes off Matt, Elizabeth quickly made her way to Julia’s side and hugged her. “It’s okay, gorgeous. I’ll take you home.”

“No,” Julia sobbed, but she let Elizabeth lead her towards the door.

Foggy started after the pair. “Elizabeth, wait-”

“No, you stay away. _Both_ of you. You lied to me about Julia’s welfare. I can’t have that.” Elizabeth paused, then added, “don’t contact us again.”

Foggy glanced at Matt. He looked more confused than upset. Foggy knew Matt wasn’t about to stick up for himself, so he said, “just listen for a moment.” Elizabeth paused, her hand on the door. Foggy continued, “Matt busted his ass for Julia. All that time spent teaching her how to navigate, to stick up for herself, to read… all while he was dealing with his own issues. It’s not easy for him, but he cares. The least you can do is talk it out –or-or just say thank you.”

Elizabeth glared at Foggy and then at Matt. She pulled the door open with an angry huff and slammed it after her.

Foggy stared at the door, still trying to absorb what had just happened. He glanced at Matt who was sitting there expressionless. “Matt, are you okay?” Matt didn’t move. “Dude, are you okay?” Foggy sat down next to Matt and tentatively slipped his hand over Matt’s shoulder. “You know she didn’t mean that,” Foggy said to his unresponsive friend. “You’re a good person. You care.”

Matt sat there numbly. This was too hard. It was too hard. He closed his eyes. _Take me away_ , he thought. _Take me away._

“Great. Icing on the cake,” Foggy grumbled as Matt started to seize. “Where’s that damn dog?” Foggy cast his eyes around the room until he spotted the little black mound sunning herself on the balcony.

Foggy was shaking with rage as he unfurled the nasal cannula, so much so that he couldn’t get the tubing into place, and ended up loosely holding it under Matt’s nose until he’d stopped shaking. Foggy knew better than anyone that Matt had his faults, but he didn’t deserve to be treated like that, particularly after being beaten up by a small (but freakishly strong) girl. What made it worse was that Matt didn’t even try to defend himself from Elizabeth’s accusations. Old Matt would have attempted to turn that around and he probably would have succeeded. This Matt, well, who knows what was going through his head. He probably believed it - he probably believed he was a bad person. For once, Foggy was relieved that Matt’s memory of events immediately before a seizure were usually wiped, even though at some point he’d need to be told why Julia and Elizabeth had stopped calling. But not now. Matt didn’t need one more thing to feel guilty about.

But Foggy did need to tell one person. As soon as Matt was stabilized and deep into his post-seizure sleep, Foggy got out his phone. “Hi Father Lantom, um, it’s Foggy Nelson, Matt’s… yeah, sorry…” He took a deep breath and said, “I need to talk to you about the Carpenters.”


	38. Aren't you angry?

It took Foggy most of Sunday to work up the strength to talk to Matt about Julia and Elizabeth. He waited until Matt was settled on the couch with a snoozing Daisy and a cup of tea before venturing, “um, Matt, you remember Julia and Elizabeth visiting yesterday…”

Matt tipped his head. “Mmm… yes, why?”

“How much do you remember?”

Matt shrugged. “Julia talked incessantly, we watched a movie.”

“And after the movie?”

“Um-they went home?”

“Do you remember why they went home?”

Matt sighed. “Spit it out, Foggy. What are you really asking?”

Foggy placed his cup of coffee on the shiny glass coffee table and moved closer to Matt on the couch. “Matt, it wasn’t your fault-”

“What happened?”

“Elizabeth got- she got, um, cross.”

Matt furrowed his brow.

“Julia had a bit of a tantrum and started hitting you.” Matt looked taken aback but didn’t say anything, so Foggy continued, “She hit Elizabeth too when she tried to intervene. Uh, eventually you grabbed her wrists to make her stop – not violently. I don’t think you hurt her…. surprised her more than anything else. Enough to get her to stop hitting you.” Foggy paused as he tried to read the expression on Matt’s face. “Uh, so anyway, the truth about the mugging came out and Elizabeth told you- us – uh, to in her words, to stay away.”

“The mugging?”

“Yeah, when Julia witnessed you do your Daredevil thing.” Foggy moved closer and put a hand on Matt’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off. “I’m sure Elizabeth will see the light once she’s calmed down.”

Matt shook his head. “No, she’s right. I shouldn’t be- be-”

“You made such a difference to Julia’s life-”

“But I’m not her guardian. It’s up to her mom to decide who-”

“Oh come on, Matt. Aren’t you pissed off that after everything – after Julia _hit_ you – you were just discarded?”

Matt bit his bottom lip and drew his mug of tea closer to his chest.

Foggy changed tack. “Father Lantom said-”

“You spoke to my priest?”

“Y-yeah… I had to warn him – give him a heads up just in case Elizabeth said something at mass today.”

Matt’s cheeks flushed. “You had no right-”

“Matt, just hold on a second. I didn’t go into detail. I just thought-”

“That you’d tattle on her?”

“It wasn’t like that. No one’s tat– ergh, who uses the word _tattle_  after puberty anyway?”

Matt scowled into his tea.

“Don’t you want to know what Father Lantom said?” Matt didn’t move, so Foggy went on, “he wanted you to know that his door is always open. He’s happy to come here to visit too – if you want.”

Matt took a silent sip of his tea.

“Come on, Matt, how can you not be angry?”

Matt mumbled something unintelligible.

“What? I didn’t catch that.”

Matt cleared his throat. “I said, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

Foggy studied his friend for a moment. “Okay. If you change your mind, I’m all ears. Elizabeth is probably regretting it now. I’m sure we can reach out-”

“No.”

Foggy rolled his eyes. “Okay, well, if you don’t want to talk about the Carpenters, we at least need to talk about work. We have the interviews for our new paralegal tomorrow,” Foggy said. “I-I was thinking – if you want – and no pressure here, really, no pressure – but if you wanted to come in just for a couple of hours, I’d really appreciate it. You don’t need to say anything – just sit and listen.”

Matt was curled up on the couch, his knees up, nursing a cup of tea. He bowed his head over the steaming mug, enjoying the swirls of wet heat threading their way up his raw nostrils. “No, it’s okay. You make the decision.”

“I’d really like you there, Matt. You’re one half of Nelson & Murdock.”

Matt’s silence was more painful than words.

 

* * *

 

Foggy returned home to find Matt lying on the recliner on the balcony, wrapped in a thick blanket. His hoodie was pulled low over his eyes so that just his nose poked out.

“Hey, do you know what’s going on downstairs? There were a heap of police cars out the front... I-I thought the worst.”

Matt tipped his head up ever so slightly, revealing a couple more inches of his washed out skin. “Mr Pluckton – one level down… the police got an anonymous tip off that he was trading in child exploitation material.”

“Ah, I see. And did that tip-off come from the same burner phone used by Daredevil?”

“Possibly,” Matt said. Foggy could see the shadow of a smirk below the folds of the blankets.

Foggy patted Matt’s shoulder. “Good to know you still have it, buddy.” He pulled a deck chair over to Matt’s side and sat down heavily with a groan. “The interviews today were grueling. We were lucky to have Karen fall into our laps, I’ll tell you what.”

The blankets moved slightly, but there was no other indication that Matt was listening.

Foggy prompted, “do you want to know how the interviews went?”

“Did you make a decision?”

“We have a short list. There are three-” but Foggy was interrupted by a sudden movement near Matt’s knees. Daisy struggled out from the blanket and started jumping up at Matt, whining slightly as she clawed at the blanket.

“Matt, do you want to see if you can quickly get inside? I don’t think you want a seizure outside.”

“Don’t care.”

Foggy rolled his eyes. “Come on, buddy. Come inside. It’s warm and the oxygen’s there.”

“They just found photos. H-hardcopy photos,” Matt said softly.

“Shit, that’s-” Foggy paused for a moment then remembered time was ticking. He pulled at Matt’s arm. “I know you want to track what’s happening downstairs, but I need you to come inside. You’ll be unconscious in a minute anyway.”

Matt grimaced. “That’s horrible-”

“And yet it’s true. Give me your arm and I’ll help you inside. _Quick_.”

Matt tipped his head back in frustration, biting hard on his bottom lip. A few seconds later he nodded and put his arm out.

They managed to make it all the way into Matt’s bedroom with Foggy holding Matt under one armpit. Matt perched on the edge of the bed and tried to slow his breathing, but it wasn’t easy with Daisy leaping around on full alert.

Foggy handed Matt the oxygen. “Here, you do the honors, buddy.”

With shaking hands, Matt threaded the cannula under his nose, pressing it into his nostrils and holding it there. He whispered, “can-can you wait-”

“Yeah, I’m not leaving you. I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.” Foggy piled a couple more pillows behind Matt’s back. “Sit back, buddy. Try and relax.”

Matt could feel his heart pounding louder and faster than usual. No matter how many times he seized, this moment of waiting still terrified him. He never remembered these moments, of course – it was like living them for the first time every single seizure. And so he waited… waited on the edge of the cliff, knowing he was about to be hurled off.

“Matt, tell me about your favorite bird,” Foggy said, putting his hand on Matt’s clenched fist.

“B-bird?” Matt’s mouth clicked with dryness.

“Yeah, it was red or something.” Foggy knew exactly what type of bird it was, but asking Matt about this particular animal become a ritual over the last six months. Matt never remembered these pre-seizure discussions, but Foggy knew that it worked as a distraction every time.

“I-I can’t-”

Foggy could see the confusion in Matt’s face – a sign that he was about to seize any second now. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re okay,” Foggy said, repeating the phrase over and over even as Matt’s body stiffened into a seizure.

Danny appeared at the door. “Hey, do you need help?”

Foggy huffed in bitter amusement. “I feel like I could do this in my sleep now.”

To himself, Foggy mumbled “thirty-two seconds,” as he scribbled in Matt’s seizure diary. “Not too bad, Matty,” Foggy said to the unconscious Matt. He rubbed Matt’s hand for a good minute before realizing Danny was still lingering in the doorway, waiting for an answer. “I think we’ll be alright. Thanks, Danny.”

 

* * *

 

As the days passed, Matt became even more withdrawn. Danny managed to drag Matt to Monday and Wednesday’s physical therapy sessions, but on the Friday, Matt flat out refused. He curled in on himself and pulled the blankets over his head. On Friday afternoon, Foggy returned from work early and headed straight for Matt’s room. “Why did you refuse to go to your appointments today?”

Matt opened his eyes, but didn’t otherwise move.

“Matt, answer me. Why did you tell Danny you weren’t going?”

“No point,” Matt mumbled into the blanket.

“No point what?”

“Everything.”

“You were doing really well, Matt. You’re home, you’re moving around – well, at least you were before you decided to do the mole creature thing. What changed?”

There was a rustle as Matt shrugged against the blankets.

Foggy sat on the edge of the bed and touched Matt’s exposed shoulder. “If we get Ian to come here for your therapy, would you get up?”

After a pause, Matt whispered, “no.”

Foggy sighed. He sat there in silence for a full minute before saying, “will anything get you up?”

“No.”

Foggy gave Matt’s shoulder a squeeze before standing up. “Well, I might as well go back to the office then. Let me know when you change your mind.”

Foggy strode out the door, hoping that Matt would call his bluff, but as he paused to glance back at Matt’s hunched form, he knew he was fooling himself.


	39. One step at a time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm meant to be writing an essay on change management (ergh), but cleaning up and posting this chapter seemed far more enjoyable.

Foggy bounced into Matt’s bedroom. “Come on, Matt, get up. It’s Saturday, it’s sunny, it’s time to get up.” Foggy drew the blinds so that Matt’s face was bathed in morning sun. Matt might not be able to see light, but Foggy knew very well that he could feel the heat. The gesture counted.

When the lump in the bed didn’t move, Foggy pulled off the top blanket revealing a small wagging Daisy tucked into the crook of Matt’s knees. She gave an audible yawn and gave Matt’s foot an affectionate lick.

Foggy ruffled the dog’s fur, telling Matt, “See, Daisy wants to go out and enjoy this gloriously warm day… with _you._ ”

Daisy stretched with a happy groan and skittered out of the room in the direction of the doggy grass patch on the balcony.

Foggy gave a theatrical groan. “Come on, Matt. Get up.”

“Fuck off,” Matt grumbled.

“No, I will not fuck off,” Foggy said with forced chirpiness. “We are going to get pancakes - like old times.”

Matt reached down and pulled the blanket back over his shoulders. “M’tired.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It’s my life.”

Foggy crossed his arms. “I disagree. You are an integral part of my life, just as I am yours. Sometimes we have to compromise, which is why I left you alone all week but am now insisting that you join me for pancakes on this beautiful weekend morning.”

Matt finally opened his eyes.

“That’s the spirit,” Foggy sang. He reached for Matt’s hand, but Matt quickly tucked it into his chest.

“M’not coming.”

“Let me help you to the bathroom at least.”

Matt gave a deep groan. He was desperate for a pee, but he didn’t want to give Foggy the satisfaction. “Don’t need to.”

Foggy huffed in mock amusement. “I doubt that very much. You’ve been in bed for…” Foggy looked at his watch and counted the hours on both hands. “Okay, I don’t have enough fingers. Needless to say-”

“Fine.” Scowling, Matt kicked back the blankets, grabbing onto Foggy’s outstretched arm.

They were half way across the room when Matt stopped and narrowed his eyes. “What’s that thing outside the door?”

“It’s a wheelchair,” Foggy replied. “I don’t want you to miss out on pancakes because you think you can’t walk that far – I thought it might help.”

“I’m not using that.”

“That’s cool. It’s just an option. It’s on loan from Ian. If you think you can walk to pancakes, then great.”

Matt said in a near whisper, “I just want the bathroom.”        

 

When Matt emerged from the ensuite five minutes later, the wheelchair had been moved well away from the doorway. Foggy leapt back into the room and announced, “you should shower before we do pancakes.”

“I’m not doing pancakes,” Matt repeated.

“You should have a shower anyway. There’s enough grease in your hair to cook a batch of pancakes.”

Matt limped over to the bed and sat heavily on the edge. “Fog, please…”

Foggy joined Matt on the side of the bed and wrapped one arm over Matt’s bony shoulder. “Please what? Please help? Because I can do that. I can help. Whatever you want. Whatever you need.”

“Please… I can’t-”

“Okay, what about if we break it down. First, we get you out of these gross pajamas because honestly, I think they’re about to crawl away of their own accord. Then we’re going to get the three days of grime off you – actually I think it’s been four days since you last showered. And _then_ you can decide whether you can do pancakes or not.”

“You’ll leave it up to me to decide?” Matt said suspiciously. “This isn’t just a ploy?”

“Of course it’s a ploy.” Foggy sighed and said in a tone of resignation, “but yes, if you decide not to come to pancakes after the shower, I’m not going to make you.”

Matt looked like he didn’t believe Foggy in the slightest. “Okay, I’ll have a shower. I-I must admit, I-I don’t smell great.”

“That’s the way,” Foggy said, pulling Matt back to his feet. “Will you be right on your own?”

“Yes, of course,” Matt replied. He tried to sound more confident than he felt. Last week, Danny had found a small plastic stool for the shower so that Matt could sit down while he washed, but he was still lethargic and clumsy and weak. Earlier in the week, he’d slipped getting out of the shower, resulting in a bruised thigh that still ached.

As he got undressed, Matt could hear Foggy shuffling around in his bedroom, peeling off his stinky sheets. Matt turned his attention to the task at hand. Shower… turn on. That was one task completed. He leaned against the glass vestibule as the water warmed, then gingerly slid onto the shower stool.

Matt sat under the stream for at least five minutes before there was a yelled, “Matt, are you okay in there?”

“Yes, fine,” Matt called.

Matt felt for the shampoo. “Two”, he mumbled. Breaking the tasks down seemed to help – just as Foggy had suggested. Uncap, squeeze… the shampoo cap fell onto the tiles and skittled into the corner. Matt didn’t even think about retrieving it. He hummed as he clumsily replaced the open bottle to the ledge. The muscles in his chest protested as he lifted his arms above his chest. He leaned backwards to compensate, nearly falling off the stool in the process. Most of the shampoo had slipped through his cupped fingers by the time he’d righted himself, but he couldn’t be bothered retrieving more. Matt half-heartedly rubbed his hair, groaning as a drip of foam dribbled down his forehead and pooled above his eyebrow. He tipped his head back, hoping to avoid the sting of soap in his eye.

“Call me if you need help getting out,” Foggy hollered.

Matt grunted. He wasn’t nearly at that stage yet. Matt mouthed, “three” as he reached for the soap. He accidentally bumped and it slithered off the ledge and under the stool. Swearing under his breath, Matt reached for it, but it slipped from his fingers, gliding gracefully across the shower stall and coming to a stop right next to the shampoo bottle cap. After the third try, he gave up.

Matt sat up straight and rubbed his back. The warm water was slowly melting some of the muscle knots away. The sound of the water sluicing over his head and neck was calming - meditative even - and he struggled to remember why he was quite so opposed to the shower in the first place.

By the time Matt turned the water off, his fingers were like prunes. He wrapped himself in one of Danny’s absurdly fluffy towels and moved the stool out into the middle of the bathroom, basking under the heat lamp until he was pink with warmth.

Foggy rapped on the door. “Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“Just checking in.”

“I’ll be out in a second. Um, I-I – do I have any clean clothes?”

“All ready for you out here, buddy. All you have to do is get into them. I’ll be in the kitchen. Give me a yell if you need me.”

Towel around his waist, Matt felt the clothes that Foggy had laid out on the freshly changed bed. Boxers, t-shirt, hoodie, sweatpants… Matt paused as he came across the last item: jeans. It was obviously Foggy’s way of communicating the choice.

Matt felt he’d made it clear it was _his_ choice, and his choice alone. He grabbed the sweatpants, determined to crawl back into bed.

Foggy yelled from the kitchen, “so I was thinking if you want to do pancakes, there’s a place that’s dog-friendly near here. They even have a dog menu with things like crepes with lox.” Foggy laughed. “I guess it comes with the neighborhood.”

Daisy slipped through the crack in Matt’s door and took a running leap onto the bed. Matt gave a small huff and said in a low voice, “did you know we were talking about you?” Daisy gave a couple of spins before stretching out into a downward pose, her tail wagging high in the air.

Foggy yelled, “I have to take Daisy out regardless. She’s going a bit stir-crazy. Danny’s out doing something with Colleen but when he comes back, I’ll take her. I don’t want to leave you alone if Daisy’s not around.”

Matt threw the sweatpants back onto the bed. He sighed and picked up the jeans.

 

“Hey, look at you all dressed,” Foggy said as Matt shuffled out into the kitchen.

“Don’t get too excited,” Matt warned, but his appearance suggested otherwise. He had his glasses on and was leaning against Danny’s dragon walking stick.

“Do I dare ask… is that a yes to pancakes?”

Matt nodded. “On one condition-”

“Name it.”

“If I say I want to come home, we come home immediately.”

“Deal. Now do you want to go to the fancy place with the dog menu or should we take a cab back to Hell’s Kitchen?”

“You know me, I like the simple stuff. Let’s go to our usual.”

 

* * *

 

As Matt and Foggy tucked into their pancakes, Daisy snuffled around underneath the table of their favorite Hell’s Kitchen diner, hoovering up crusts and crumbs. Matt only put away half a pancake before declaring himself full, but Foggy still counted it as a win. Hell, it was a win just getting Matt out of bed. Foggy scarfed down the rest of his pancakes before Matt could ask to go home.

“Foggy, breathe,” Matt said, smiling at Foggy’s pancake-stuffed cheeks. “I’m not going to insist we go home before you finish. I’m quite happy sitting here.”

Foggy choked on his mouthful of pancake. Tears streaming down his face, he chugged down half a glass of water. “You’re cruel, Murdock.”

Matt raised his eyebrows over the top of his glasses. He took a measured sip of his black coffee.

Foggy accepted a third coffee refill and turned back to Matt. “Do you have enough energy to do the dog park next? I don’t want to push you.”

Daisy was sitting on Matt’s feet by this time. Matt opened his mouth to suggest another day, but at that very moment, the small dog leaned against his shins with a small contented groan. Matt closed his mouth with a snap and ruminated on it for a moment. “Mmm… as long as I can sit. I-I- yes, let’s do it.”

Half an hour later, Matt was fast asleep on a grassy knoll near the entrance to the park. Daisy was playing with another dog with a similar amount of energy, and they were running furious figure of eights around two dense thickets. Foggy plonked himself down next to Matt and waited for Daisy to wear herself out. Despite the sun, the glorious spring bulbs, and the buzz of New Yorkers enjoying their first really warm Saturday of the year, Foggy couldn’t stop himself from thinking about the possibility of a seizure at this moment. Their outing had been perfect so far, and he needed to prove to Matt that leaving the house was a good thing. A seizure would most certainly wreak that plan.

It was almost an hour before Daisy came panting back to the two men. She flopped down next to Matt. There were pieces of twig and leaf in her fur from playing tumbling games with a spaniel six times her size. She looked like she was in seventh heaven.

“Okay, miss,” Foggy said to the dog. “Stay with your dad for a moment.” Keeping one eye on the sleeping Matt, Foggy trotted down to the nearby icecream stand.

“Matt, wake up,” Foggy said softly when he returned. “I have icecream.” He pressed the cold cone against Matt’s wrist.

Matt woke with a start. “Ngh… what?”

“I got you an icecream,” Foggy repeated, nudging the cone against Matt’s hand.

“Oh, I don’t want-” Matt started, but he caught himself in time. He could hear the hope in Foggy’s voice, and quickly said, “thanks, Fog.”

“They only had vanilla or choc mint, and I know how much you hate vanilla, so choc mint it is.”

Matt furrowed his brow as he took a bite, his facial expression soon turning to one of relief. “It’s not bad.” He could hear Foggy exhale at the positive statement. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not long. Well, long enough for me to digest a stack of pancakes.”

Matt nodded and took another bite. A light breeze ruffled the back of his hair while the sun warmed his every bone. A drip of the quickly melting icecream ran down the cone and onto his hand. Matt offered it to the dog, who took an experimental lick before backing away with her tail between her legs.

“I don’t think dogs like mint,” Foggy said. He broke off a small piece of remaining cone and offered it to Daisy, who whined and jumped another foot away. “You’ve scared her, Matt.”

Matt patted his thigh. Confused, Daisy crept over to Matt’s lap and tucked her head under his elbow. He let out a guffaw and gave her ears a good apologetic rub.

That laugh was the best thing Foggy had heard in long time.

 

Foggy assumed that the success of the outing had signaled the end of Matt’s mole behavior, but when they returned to Danny’s place, Matt went straight back to bed and stayed there for the rest of the day. Foggy assumed he was asleep, but when he poked his head in late afternoon, he saw Matt lying there with his eyes open, entirely motionless.

“Hey, Matt, do you want to come out and join us? We’re watching a movie – Karate Kid.”

“No.”

There was a pause as Foggy digested the response. No reason, no apology, just a flat no. “Oh, okay, well, we were thinking of ordering Chinese for dinner if you want anything in particular.”

“No... thanks.”

“Maybe you’ll feel like something a bit later. I’ll let you know what we order… although you’ll probably know with that super nose…”

Matt closed his eyes, signaling the conversation was over.

Foggy finished, “um, yeah… I’ll let you rest.”

 

* * *

 

When Matt hadn’t emerged from his room the next morning, Foggy decided to try the shower strategy again. “Morning, Murdock,” he called as he pulled open the curtains. “It’s 11am. More than enough time to shower and dress before our guests arrive for lunch.”

Matt pulled his blanket over his head.

“Okay, not exactly the response I was hoping for.”

A muffled voice replied, “what guests?”

“Karen, Father Lantom-”

Matt pulled the blanket away from his face. “Father- what- why?”

“Because you missed mass this morning and I know he wanted to see you. I think he wanted the opportunity to discuss the Carpenters with you directly.”

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

“Because you would have said no.”

“You can’t know – you- you can’t do that.”

“I can and I have. Come on, Matty. You survived the shower yesterday, I’m sure you’ll survive it again.”

Matt didn’t have a shower. Foggy cancelled lunch.


	40. Seek and Ye Shall Find

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you miss me? I went bush for a few weeks, thus the gap in chapter posts (although from the look of my inbox of subscriptions there are more than enough prolific writers in this fandom to keep you all busy). Anyway, here's a chapter of Matt being Matt....

For the third morning in a row, Foggy bounced into Matt’s room and drew the blinds with a theatrical announcement. “Morning, Murdock. Up and at ‘em. You’re coming to work with me this morning.”

Matt uncurled and rolled onto his back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ngh… what?”

“You’re needed at the office.”

“Wha- what for?”

“As the Murdock in Nelson & Murdock, I need you to help select a new paralegal.”

“But you had the interviews last week.”

“So you _were_ listening.”

Matt rubbed his eyes. “I-I don’t understand. I thought there were great candidates.”

“There were. I have the top three coming back for a casual conversation and coffee with the second partner.” After a pause, Foggy prompted, “that’s _you_ by the way.”

“Fog, I can’t.”

“ _Yes,_ you can.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Foggy said firmly, pulling the blanket off the bed. Quick as a flash, Matt grabbed the edge of the blanket and they had a silent tug-of-war stand-off until Foggy rolled his eyes and let go. Matt hugged the blanket like a prize.

Foggy adopted a more sanguine tone. “Please, Matt. I really need you to be part of this.”

“What if I have- I have-"

“If you have a seizure, we deal with it as per normal and the candidate gets a realistic introduction to some of the challenges of working at Nelson & Murdock. Really, it’d be a good way of narrowing the field.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. Fight me.”

 

An hour later, Matt was standing in the middle of their office, breathing in the familiar scents of ink, paper, aging computer equipment and Karen’s burnt coffee. He half hoped that this would be the moment where he became re-energized, where he started to care about his life and the future of the firm. Yet the more he tried to get excited, the more he just wanted to go home, to bed, to sleep away the gnawing boredom and pain and despair.

Foggy touched Matt’s arm. “You okay?”

Matt snapped back to the present. “Yeah, fine. Um, I might sit...”

“Yeah, go sit in the conference room. I just have to grab a few things first.” Foggy disappeared into his office and almost immediately dashed back with a heavy envelope. “Before I forget,” Foggy said, sliding the envelope towards Matt. “From Father Lantom.” At Matt’s confused face, Foggy added, “his address is written on the back.”

“Why- why was this sent here?”

“I’ve had all our personal mail redirected here for months now. It seemed easier when you were in hospital and I couldn’t get home. I never bothered changing it back, and it’s kind of worked out – now that we’re at Danny’s and all.”

Matt ran his hand over the sealed envelope and raised it to his nose. He could smell the lingering incense, calming and familiar.

“Right,” Foggy said uneasily. “Uh, I’ll be back in five.”

Matt split the envelope and took a deep sniff as he pulled the braille sheets out. He assumed it was the readings from a recent service, but there was only a single passage: Matthew, 7: 7-8. Of course.

Matt mouthed the words as he read. “ _Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened_.” The passages were as familiar to him as the Lord’s prayer. Matt gave a deep sigh and drew out the next sheet. It was a news article about Matt’s childhood accident, transcribed in braille without annotation. Matt shook his head, confused, and felt for the next sheet. The text barely justified the use of a whole piece of expensive braille paper: “ _Dear Matthew, I hope your condition is improving. I look forward to seeing you at Mass soon. Kind regards, Father Lantom._ ”

Matt felt in the envelope for something else – a clue as to why his priest sent him such a strange compilation, not to mention the oddly impersonal message. There was just a small card with a decorative embossed frame and letters reading “ _Saint Jude_ ”.

“Hey, that’s cool,” Foggy said as he returned to the conference room. “Can I see?”

Matt held out the card. Foggy flipped it over before shrugging and handing it back. “Is this like the Catholic equivalent of Pokémon cards or something?”

Matt’s mouth twitched. “Something like that,” he said, stuffing the sheets and card into the envelope. “Now tell me about these interviewees.”

 

The first interview was relatively uneventful – that is, until Matt (who had been silent up till that point) cleared his throat and said, “Ms Stapleton, what’s your stance on vigilantism?”

Foggy and Karen both stared at Matt in horror. But Lucy Stapleton didn’t even pause. “Our job as legal professionals is to uphold the law,” she said crisply. “Our legal system isn’t perfect, but vigilantism often causes more problems than it solves. Take Daredevil for instance-”

Foggy interrupted, “that’s more than enough thanks-”

Matt put out his hand. “No, please continue.”

Foggy opened his mouth to object, but Karen gave him a warning shake of her head. She wanted to hear the answer as much as Matt.

Lucy looked from Foggy to Matt and said, “well, a friend of mine was being physically abused by her husband. I finally convinced her to go to the police and she was about to when Daredevil attacked him one night. He ended up in hospital for weeks and when he got home, my friend was expected to care for her husband. He used it against her – and-and the worst thing was that she felt responsible in a way. The guilt – it prevented her from doing anything about it. Now…” Lucy paused.

Karen prompted, “what happened?”

“He killed her.”

There was a heavy silence in the room. Matt opened and closed his mouth, desperately wanting to defend Daredevil’s actions – to say that this woman’s death wasn’t a direct result of his interference. But he couldn’t. He knew it was false. It was his fault. He didn’t do enough.

“I’m so sorry,” Foggy finally said.

“No, _I’m_ sorry,” Lucy said, her eyes welling up. She pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed her eyes. “I didn’t mean to make it so personal. I-I just…”

“We understand,” Foggy said. “It was an _unexpected_ question,” he added with a sideways glance at Matt.

 

As soon as Lucy was out the door, Foggy turned on Matt. “What were you thinking asking a question like that?”

Matt shrugged. “It’s important to know people’s stance on these things.”

Foggy gave a growl of frustration. “No, Matt. Just _don’t_ -”

“We’re going to have to ask the others the same question. It’s only fair,” Matt pointed out.

“What – you want to make our other potential employees cry? She was a good candidate. I doubt that she’ll want to work here now.”

“Well, actually, she was lying about her employment history.”

“What?”

“She didn’t work at Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz.”

“And you’re only telling me this now?”

Matt shrugged.

Foggy studied Matt’s blank expression. Strangely, Matt didn’t seem fazed by the alleged lie. Foggy ventured, “you know your heartbeat detection thing isn’t infallible.”

“It’s still a tool. We check with Jessica. She’ll know. Happy?”

Foggy swallowed. “Uh, yeah, I meant to tell you… um, so Jess has kind of gone AWOL.”

Matt frowned. “AWOL?”

“Yeah, absent without leave-”

“I understand what the acronym stands for, just not in the context of Jessica Jones.”

“She’s not answering her phone, she’s not at home-”

“The case – what if she got-”

“Yeah, that was my first thought too. But when I was at her apartment, I bumped into a friend of hers-” Foggy paused at Matt’s incredulous expression. “Yes, she has friends,” Foggy said in response. “Anyway, her friend – Malcolm I think his name was – said that she was dealing with some personal stuff and not to worry, she’ll return when she’s ready.”

“And you believe that?”

Foggy shrugged. “Honestly, I’m more frustrated with her abandoning the case.” He scratched his head. “That said, I don’t think she was any closer than you were to cracking the drugging mystery. Every lead turns into a dead end. It’s as if whoever’s responsible is teasing us-”

Karen cleared her throat. “Guys, are you finished?”

Foggy whispered to Matt, “we’ll talk about this later,” before saying to Karen, “yeah, we’re finished. Call our next candidate in.”

 

In line with Matt’s ‘to be fair’ argument, the other two candidates were asked the same question as Lucy. The other candidates’ answers weren’t nearly as explosive as Lucy’s, although the third candidate’s response on the separation of theory and reality made them pause.

“Do you think it’s wise to employ someone who’s admitted she’s not entirely opposed to vigilantism?” Foggy said after the last candidate – Ruby - had left.

“You hired _me_ even though I’m not entirely opposed,” Karen pointed out.

“Technically, we never hired you,” Matt pointed out.

“Mmm… you were kind of like a very persistent stray cat,” Foggy said. “You moved in and appealed to our affectionate side and we couldn’t find it in our hearts to put you back on the streets.”

Karen retorted, “yeah, well this stray cat has made herself useful over the years. Don’t you forget that.”

“Enough about cats,” Matt said, wrinkling his nose. “Can we make a decision already?”

“I like John,” Foggy said, referring to the second candidate.

“No, let’s go for gender equality,” Karen argued. “Lucy or Ruby.”

“Don’t forget we have Candy,” Foggy replied. “Two men, two women. We’re already kicking goals.”

“Yeah, but Candy’s casual. We’re talking about a permanent staff member here.”

“I like Ruby,” Matt said.

“Only because she openly admitted to supporting vigilantism.”

“Actually, it had nothing to do with that question. She just sounded confident. She demonstrated initiative and critical thought.”

Foggy rolled his eyes. “Did you get that phrase straight out of a textbook?”

Matt raised one eyebrow in confusion.

Karen tapped the table to get their attention. “Should we go through the notes again?”

Matt made a move to get up. “I’ll leave the decision to you two. You have my vote. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

“Matt, don’t be like that,” Foggy said, grabbing his arm. “I brought you in as my partner. Can we at least discuss this a bit further?”

Matt shook Foggy off and left the room as fast as he could.

The couch in his office was just as he left it. The pile of pillows and blanket and spare clothes was still stacked neatly under an adjacent table. Tucking his glasses into his shirt pocket, he slumped onto the couch and dragged one of the pillows under his head, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. Daisy leapt up to join him, curling into his stomach.

Frustratingly, sleep wouldn’t come. There were too many distractions. Matt scanned the room picking up small changes. Although she wasn’t in today, he could smell the lingering scent of Candy in his office. She usually worked in the conference room, but she must have moved into his office this time due to his long absence. She’d rearranged his desk. Gone was his braille display and printer. Instead, manila folders of printed material were piled in a neat corner next to a mouse pad.

Matt could hear Foggy and Karen whispering to each other about what to do next. He pulled a cushion over his ears and tried to block them out, concentrating instead on Daisy’s steady heartbeat drumming against his stomach. “Good girl,” he whispered to the small dog, tangling his fingers through her soft fur.

 

Matt awoke to Foggy gently shaking his shoulder. “Come on, buddy. Wake up. We have a client coming in a few minutes, and we need you for this one.”

Matt rubbed his eyes as he sat up. “Fog, I don’t-”

“Tea,” Foggy interrupted. “I made your favorite – Lady Grey.”

Matt opened his mouth to correct Foggy, but thought better of it, mumbling, “uh, thanks.” He wrapped his hands around the steaming mug and gave Foggy what he hoped was a convincing smile.

Moments later, there was a timid knock on the door. Matt hissed at Foggy, “you didn’t tell me Melvin was coming in today.”

Foggy shrugged. “It’s good timing though, eh?”

“A bit too convenient,” Matt grumbled as Foggy exited the room to greet Melvin. He stayed slumped against the couch as Foggy greeted Melvin and took him into the conference room.

Even from two rooms away, Matt could hear the uncertainty in Melvin’s voice when he asked, “w-where’s Mr Murdock?”

“I’m just going to grab him,” Foggy said, hurrying back to Matt.

“Matt,” Foggy whispered, “come on, we need you in here.” Foggy put his hand out and Matt reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. After one step, Matt hesitated. Foggy prompted, “in your pocket.”

“Thanks,” Matt murmured, pulling his glasses from his shirt pocket.

“This won’t take long,” Foggy whispered. “Now that he’s out of hospital, we just need to go over a few things before his next court date.”

“Oh,” was all Matt could say. He’d been so wrapped up in his own medical drama that he’d completely forgotten about Melvin’s breakdown and subsequent hospitalization.

Foggy stopped when he saw Matt’s facial expression. “What’s wrong?” Worried that Matt’s confusion signaled an impending seizure, Foggy looked over to Daisy. But she was calmly lying Sphynx-like on the couch.

Matt shook his head and gave Foggy’s arm a tug to keep moving.

As soon as Matt appeared in the doorway, Melvin leapt to his feet with a happy guffaw. “Mr Da-Matt, you’re back.”

Karen bit her lip at Melvin’s slip, while Foggy took a worried glance at Matt, who looked taken aback.

Matt’s expression of concern wasn’t due to Melvin’s slip, however. Matt had assumed it was a set-up to try and get him re-motivated, but it seemed that Foggy hadn’t promised Melvin that Matt would be present. Until this point, Matt hadn’t considered what Foggy was telling his clients or acquaintances during this lengthy period of recuperation. He’d been so focused on the now - on the weighty task of just existing during the day - that he’d barely given a single thought to his external networks.

Melvin took a couple of quick steps forward as if he were about to hug Matt, but stopped at the last moment, shaking his hands out and saying, “are you better?”

“Getting there,” Matt said, feeling the back of a chair before easing himself into it. He tipped his head up towards Melvin. “How about you?”

“Yeah, oh yeah, much better. I’m good,” Melvin quickly replied. “Betsy’s been helping me set up a shop, y’know, for costumes and stuff. She says – she says it’s good to take my mind off things, keep busy, y’know after I had – after the hospital and all that. I don’t want to go back. She’s helping me not go back.” Melvin bounced on his toes a few times before Foggy said, “have a seat, Melvin.”

Even though they’d lost their key witness, their argument for Melvin’s defense would essentially be the same. They had a revised court date, which Foggy used to justify the meeting, but there was nothing much more to discuss. If Melvin had been a paying client, there’s no way Foggy would have brought him in for such a short meeting. But Melvin was not a regular client. Matt could tell from the way Foggy spoke to Melvin that he was assessing the man’s mental state. Foggy spoke kindly, patiently, even when Melvin went on a five-minute rambling monologue about a new favorite fabric coating he’d developed.

“Matt,” Foggy whispered, giving him a poke.

“Y-yeah?”

“Melvin just asked how you are?”

Matt blinked. Hadn’t they done this already? In the subsequent silence, Melvin said, “I hear you were zapped by the cops. I-I used the opportunity to make you a new suit that absorbs the electrical current.”

“Oh-oh, thanks,” Matt said, forcing a smile.

“If you want it, that is,” Melvin said quickly. “Man, I don’t blame you if you don’t want to go out again.”

“I think it’ll be a long time before I’m ready for that,” Matt replied.

Melvin’s tone turned more serious. “But-but you’ll look after Betsy. You promised.”

Karen interrupted, “Betsy?”

Melvin stood up with a scrape of his chair. He glared at Karen then back at Matt. “You _promised_.”

“Melvin, please sit down,” Foggy said in a voice that was meant to be calm and placating. Instead, it seemed to rile Melvin, who took a threatening step towards Matt with his fists bunched.

Foggy went to stand up, but Matt gave him a small kick under the table as he said in a steady voice, “Melvin, you’re right. I gave you my word.” He paused and added, “tell me about this suit – the new one.”

It wasn’t what anyone expected, least of all Melvin. His fists loosened ever so slightly and he straightened. “Uh, uh, you want the suit?”

“I think I could use it,” Matt said, leaning back in his chair. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me, which is why Foggy and Karen are here with me right now, helping you.”

Melvin hung his head with a child-like sniffle. While Foggy and Karen both stared incredulously at the man’s sudden change in demeanor.

“Karen, would you be able to make us all a cup of tea,” Matt said quietly. Once Karen was safely out of the room, Matt clicked his fingers twice and Daisy came skittering into the room. Matt clicked again with one finger pointed towards Melvin, prompting Daisy to trot over to Melvin.

“Uh, hi,” Melvin said to Daisy.

“Take a seat,” Matt said. “Then she can sit on your lap. I think she’d like that.”

Worried about Daisy’s safety, Foggy tried to object, “Matt, do you think-”

Matt raised his hand and Foggy stopped. Matt clicked his fingers again and gestured upwards and Daisy lithely jumped onto Melvin’s lap. The man visibly relaxed as soon as he touched Daisy’s fur.

“Now, Melvin,” Matt said with a smile, “tell me about your shop.”

 

Half an hour later, they waved Melvin goodbye. As soon as the door closed, Foggy leaned against it with a dramatic, “phew. Talk about emotional whiplash.”

Matt frowned. “He’s just sorting things out.”

“I don’t know. He seems pretty dangerous to me.”

“He didn’t do anything.”

“That’s because you offered Daisy up like a sacrifice.”

“He wasn’t going to hurt her.”

“You don’t know that, Matt. Imagine if something happened to her.”

Matt turned away. He imagined every day what would happen if- _No_ , he told himself. He wasn’t going there. Not now.

“Matt, I’m sorry,” Foggy said in a placating tone. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just-”

Matt cleared his throat. “I’m not upset,” he said flatly. “I-I need some space. I’ll meet you at Danny’s.” He clicked his fingers at Daisy, who trotted over and gave a couple of spins in anticipation of an adventure.

“I’ll accompany you,” Foggy said. “Let me get my coat.”

“You should stay.” Matt shuffled slowly across the room. So much for a quick getaway, he thought to himself as he reached the front door.

Foggy rushed to join Matt, coat and laptop bag in hand. As Foggy passed by her desk, Karen caught him by the arm. “Leave him,” she whispered.

“No,” Foggy said, shaking Karen off with a deathly glare. Karen raised her eyebrows at him in return before giving him a look of absolute frustration.

Foggy glanced at the disappearing shadow of Matt through the textured glass door, before returning Karen’s gaze. “Okay,” Foggy said with a sigh. He walked over to the window and watched as Matt made it to the edge of the sidewalk and waved for a cab.

Karen came up from behind and as soon as Matt was safely in the back of the car, she said, “I know you worry, but he needs some space. I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s got Daisy, and his phone. He knows to call you if need be.”

Foggy pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over the app that tracked Matt’s location. He’d promised Matt he’d only use it when Matt had given explicit consent. But that was before Matt was having daily seizures and needed oxygen on recovery. Things had changed.

Foggy wavered for another ten seconds before locking his phone and tucking it deep into his pocket. “Well, I guess I’d better get back to the Galler files,” Foggy said to Karen with a forced smile.


	41. Fogwell's

Foggy glanced at his phone. The home screen was unchanged, bar the one minute difference in the time. No message, no missed call. He brushed his hair from his eyes and returned to the document on his screen. “ _Any person who shall knowingly possess or have under his control…_ ”

He’d not even finished the sentence when the phone rang. He pounced on the phone. Unknown number. Shit.

“Hello, this is Foggy Nelson speaking,” he blurted out.

“You have been randomly selected for a prize,” a computerized voice said. “To claim-”

“Fuck,” Foggy said, as he pressed the call cancel button.

“Is everything okay?” Karen called from her desk.

“Yeah, just a spam caller.”

“Again?”

“Yeah, I don’t know what list I got placed on, but it’s a pain in the ass.” Foggy stood up with a scrape of the chair. “At least it wasn’t the hospital,” he said to himself before calling to Karen, “I’m going to finish up for the day.”

“It’s only 4 o’clock.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t heard from Matt in two hours. I did as you said – I let him have his space – but I can’t concentrate like this. I have find him.”

Foggy expected an argument, but Karen just said, “yeah I know.”

Foggy grinned. “Thanks, Karen. I’ll let you know when I find him.”

 

Foggy gave the cab driver their apartment address, figuring home was the most logical and comforting place Matt would go. But as he drew near their street, Foggy changed his mind. “Actually, could you drop me at Clinton Church please,” he said to the cab driver. The driver grunted in the affirmative and took an early left, taking them by the graffitied façade of Fogwell’s gym. “ _Stop!_ ” Foggy yelled at the driver.

The driver turned around and glared at Foggy. “Um, I’m just going to get out here, thanks,” Foggy said meekly. “Sorry. I-I just realized…” Foggy pulled out a couple of extra bills and added them to his tip, before nearly tumbling out of the cab.

Foggy marched up to the front door and narrowed his eyes as he tried to see past the decades of grime on the windows. A handwritten sign announcing Fogwell’s closure was taped to the door. A heavy padlock complemented the set of locks, along with some red spray-painted wooden crossbeams. He tried to think back to the last time he’d visited the gym. It would have been at least six months ago - more even. In the nine or so months since Matt had received his epilepsy diagnosis, Matt hadn’t mentioned that Fogwell’s had closed for good.

Foggy glanced down at his phone. No notifications. Damn.

He stalked around to the side entrance. Plastic warning tape lay in tatters on the ground, along with another sign – this one torn and dampstained. There was a small piece of wire stuck in the lock. Holding his breath, Foggy touched the side door and it gave way with a slow creak. There was a shrill yet familiar bark from inside the building, followed by a warning growl. Foggy finally properly exhaled for the first time all day.

Spots of dim light shone through the filthy windows, silhouetting Matt. He was lying on the edge of the boxing ring with his knees bent and Daisy tucked into his armpit. She wagged her tail against Matt’s chest when she spotted Foggy.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t use the app without your permission,” Foggy said. “I-I just had a feeling…”

Matt croaked, “I believe you”.

Foggy made his way to the ring and leaned against the ropes. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Matt said.

“I didn’t realize Fogwell’s had closed.” From Matt’s silence, it seemed that Matt had missed the memo too. “I’m sorry, man.”

Matt shrugged against the grimy ring surface. “I guess no one used it.”

“No one who paid,” Foggy pointed out. “They made it too easy for you to break in.” He looked back at the door, which was still ajar.

Matt said indignantly, “ _I_ paid… cash.”

There was an awkward silence, then Foggy said, “oh, I should tell you – you were right about Lucy. Karen did a bit of digging. She never worked with Hogarth.”

Matt gave a non-committal grunt.

“I’m glad you came to work today, Matt. I-I wasn’t sure if you would. I definitely didn’t expect you to last as long as you did. You did good.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” Matt replied.

“You’ve barely left the bed in over a month. This was a big step.”

“I guess.”

Foggy crawled under the bottom rope so that he was sitting next to Matt’s hip. He went to cross his legs, but the suit pants pulled uncomfortably, so he let his legs hang over the edge of the ring instead.

“It’s easier to go through the upper ropes than under them,” Matt said.

Foggy ignored Matt’s less-than-useful comment. “You’re going to have to join a fancy expensive gym now, Matty.”

Matt snorted. “Unlikely.”

“Do you want to head home?”

“To Danny’s?”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

Matt stretched and flopped his legs flat to the ground. He winced as his back cramped, tucking his hand under the hollow of his back.

“This can’t be the most comfortable surface,” Foggy observed.

“Mmmm…” Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fogwell’s has never been about comfort.”

“You don’t say.”

Matt gestured at the corner of the room. “I used to do my homework over there.”

“How did you concentrate?”

Matt shrugged. “I managed.” He gave a small chuckle. “I had sex here.” He patted the ring floor.

Foggy gaped. “What?”

“Elektra and I – we broke in one night.”

“Ew, Matt.”

“What? There’s been a lot of activity since then.”

“Yeah, but for you… how much blood has fallen on this surface?”

“Probably the same as my couch.”

Foggy shook his head. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“I-I came here to – to get…” Matt petered off as he considered the best way to phrase his struggle. “I thought maybe Fogwell’s would motivate me somehow.” Matt screwed up his face. “I-I can’t bring myself-”

Foggy grabbed Matt’s balled fist. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“This place-” Matt choked on his words. “I-it was the last place.” A tear broke free. Matt didn’t bother wiping it away and it slid slowly, haltingly, down his temple. Daisy extricated herself from the crook of Matt’s elbow and sat next to his head, fretting. For once, he ignored her.

“Maybe we could start a campaign to buy it for the community,” Foggy said. “We have experience from the sculpture garden campaign.”

“And look how that turned out,” Matt said bitterly.

Foggy ventured, “well, I’m sure you would have avoided it if you could. Erinyes was-”

“No, Foggy, you don’t get it,” Matt said, struggling upright. “I destroy everything. Nothing escapes the chaos I bring to every aspect of my life.”

Foggy said, “well, we could keep you away from Fogwell’s until the campaign’s over.”

Matt slammed his fist on the ground. “ _No_. You don’t understand.”

Daisy skittered away in fright. She rounded the ring and eventually settled next to Foggy. After a moment’s silence, Foggy said, “you happy now that you’ve freaked out Daisy?” Foggy gave the dog a rub under her ears. “You could apologize to Gladys.”

“And say what? Sorry I destroyed your sculptures, but I was fighting a resurrected split soul?”

“Sure. Start with that,” Foggy deadpanned. He drummed his fingers on the floor of the ring before remembering the blood comments from before. “Ergh,” he said, wiping his hand on his pants.

“I-I keep waiting – I keep waiting for the next thing. Drugging, seizure, or – or whatever disaster God can come up with to put me in my place.”

“You can’t possibly think that this is some kind of spiritual punishment, Matty.”

Matt put out his hands pleadingly. “Why else would all this happen?”

“Well, the seizures came from the head injury and the head injury came...” Foggy petered off. “Sorry, not a question. Um, well, you don’t deserve any of it. The druggings – who knows why that’s happening or why you’re targeted.” Foggy lightened his tone as he added, “on the upside, you haven’t been drugged in over a week.”

Matt's expression suggested that Foggy’s ‘upside’ wasn’t what he needed to hear right now. He took a deep breath and continued, “I see all this horror around me and I can’t get – I don’t feel – I don’t know how to-”

“If you want to get motivated, Matt, I’m here to help. But-but not if you do things like scare Daisy like you just did. There’s no excuse.”

Matt shifted so that he was leaning against the ropes. He bit his lip, his head hung low.

“You did well with Melvin today,” Foggy said. “You knew how to turn that situation around. I know it’s hard for you to read people at times, but you read Melvin. I- I- thank you.”

“I usually use my fists – when Melvin gets – uh, like that,” Matt said quietly.

Foggy raised his eyebrows. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. I’m glad you didn’t today.”

Matt exhaled loud and long.

Foggy wriggled. “Oof, this surface isn’t nearly as soft as I expected.”

“Well, the aim is not to sit on it,” Matt said, the corner of his mouth quirking into a semi-smile.

“Come back to Danny’s with me? Daisy looks hungry, and I expect you’re tired.”

Matt looked like he was going to refuse, but after a small sigh, he ducked under the ropes and looped his arm around Foggy’s.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Matt was propped up on the couch recovering from a seizure with his head on Foggy’s lap.

“Yeah, but if I hadn’t found him,” Foggy said to Karen on the phone. “It _is_ up to me. He doesn’t have anyone else.”

Foggy was scrolling through portable oxygen concentrators on his laptop while he spoke. They were prohibitively expensive, but if he was going to coax Matt into work every day and Matt –for now – still needed oxygen when recovering and lugging their heavy existing concentrator around just wasn’t going to cut it.

Foggy heard a key in the lock. “Hey, Karen I have to go. Danny’s home.”

Foggy put his phone away just as Danny bounded into the living area, stopping with a visible wilt as he spotted Matt. “Dang.”

“At least he got home first,” Foggy said.

“He looks weird in a suit,” Danny observed.

Foggy looked at Matt. The oxygen tubing and pulse ox monitor did seem at odds with his business attire. He’d rescued a besuited Matt a few times from the ER department, but nowadays he almost always in pajamas or sweats.

Foggy reached over and unbuttoned another couple of buttons on Matt’s shirt before saying to Danny, “he spent the day at work. I was thinking of trying to get him there tomorrow, but I don’t want to take him without the oxygen. They said it was only a temporary necessity, but they haven’t given him the okay to stop yet. I don’t want that to be a barrier.”

“He’s got that portable one.”

“What portable one?”

“The one I bought him after – what, he never told you?”

“No.” Foggy looked down at the screen. “How did you know which one to buy?”

“I spoke to Ian when I went with Matt to physical therapy,” Danny said matter-of-factly. “Matt said he couldn’t leave the apartment because he couldn’t take the oxygen. Ian mentioned these portable units so I bought one.” Danny gestured at Matt. “He still didn’t leave the apartment though.”

“Yeah, well he’s been depressed,” Foggy said, suddenly feeling protective. He looked towards Matt’s bedroom. “Do you think he hid it?”

Danny shrugged.

“Do you think you could sit with him for a moment. I need to pee, but I don’t want to leave him.”

Danny looked puzzled, so Foggy explained, “his recovery seems better when he’s close to a familiar body. He kept ripping the oxygen off so I thought I’d try something new.”

Foggy extracted himself from under Matt’s head and went in search of the unit. He returned a minute later with the box in his hand. “He hasn’t even opened it.” He unpacked the box on the coffee table, quickly scrolling through the instructions. “This is easy.” He stared at Matt. His breath was still coming in small puffs. “Why didn’t he tell me about this?”

 

Foggy didn’t bring up the portable unit when Matt awoke. Instead, he focused on trying to convince Matt to eat something. “Come on, Matty,” Foggy urged. He’d brought to the couch a salad, a sandwich and a mug of soup in the hope that Matt would accept at least one form of sustenance.

“M’not hungry,” Matt said.

“Yeah but operation Get-Matt-Back-On-His-Feet includes getting some more meat on you, so you have to eat. I’m sorry, buddy, but you have to make an effort here.”

Matt rolled his eyes, but reached for the sandwich. He nibbled off a corner before returning it to the plate. The bread was like glue in his dry mouth, and he pushed it around with his tongue before reaching for the soup. It was warm, home made with real stock, Matt realized.

“Pea and ham,” Foggy supplied. “You said you liked my last batch.”

Matt forced a smile and took a second sip. “It’s lovely. Thanks, Fog.”

Foggy sat back on the couch with a smile. He’d done good.

 

* * *

 

Matt managed to drag himself into work the next day. He’d looked embarrassed when Foggy brought up the issue of the portable oxygen concentrator, but didn’t argue against it. Even though he was physically present at work, he spent a great deal of his day on the couch asleep. He sat in on a few client meetings and even reviewed one of the cases Foggy was working on, but even a half hour meeting seemed to tire him.

Come the end of the day, Foggy gave the exhausted Matt a poke. “Matty, wake up.”

Matt was slumped in his office chair after trying and failing to review some documents for the Keller case. He shifted away from Foggy’s hand.

“Come on, home time,” Foggy said, giving Matt’s shoulder a shake.

“M’stay here,” Matt mumbled.

“You’ll regret that in a few hours when you wake up with a crook neck. You can’t possibly be comfortable.”

At that suggestion, Matt finally opened his eyes. His back and neck were aching from sleeping on a slight slant. He rubbed the back of his neck then reached for his drawer where he usually had a stash of Aspirin. The spot was taken up with a small box, which he flicked open to explore the contents.

“Uh, Matt,” Foggy said uneasily. “They’re tampons. Candy must have left them here.”

“Can you see the Aspirin?”

“Not immediately, but I have some in my office.” He dashed off before Matt could respond. “Here,” Foggy said, popping a few pills into Matt’s outstretched hand. “Candy was only using your office while you were away. When she comes in tomorrow, I’ll get her to work in the conference room.”

“It’s okay,” Matt said, dry swallowing the pills.

 

To Foggy’s delight, Matt attended work every day that week. He didn’t do much actual work, but he was trying, and as Foggy kept telling Matt, it was a big step just to get there.

It wasn’t as easy as Foggy had expected. Wednesday was interrupted by a mid-afternoon seizure, and Foggy spent a great deal of time trying to come up with meaningful work for Matt to do in his current state of mind.

Foggy also took time out to accompany Matt to the hospital for his outpatient appointments. By now, Matt was steadier on his feet and had ditched the dragon walking stick, but he was still having to attend physical therapy twice a week to try and built up his strength. His appointment with Dr Millet also confirmed that the oxygen was still helpful for post-seizure recovery, earning a scowl from Matt.

By the time the weekend came around, Matt was exhausted. On Saturday, he dismissed Foggy’s pancakes invitation, holing up in his room for most of the morning. However, Foggy’s guilt trip about Daisy being bored seemed to motivate Matt enough to venture outside for a short walk.

“See? This ain’t so bad,” Foggy said after they’d walked a block.

Matt silently stopped to let Daisy sniff a fire hydrant. By the time they’d walked five blocks, Matt looked wrecked. He was walking unevenly – a sort of shuffle limp.

Foggy cautiously said, “hey, come sit. There’s a coffee shop with outdoor seating just ahead.”

Matt opened his mouth to argue, thought better of it, then nodded.

While Matt sunk into one of the wicker chairs, Foggy disappeared into the shop, returning with two iced coffees and a cake.

Matt raised his eyebrows and let out a small chuckle. “Was this your game plan all along? Cake?”

“Honestly, no. But it’d be a great game plan if it were.” He pushed the cake towards Matt. “Try it.”

Matt sniffed the cake then took a cautious bite. “Not bad,” he eventually judged, and Foggy gave a sigh of relief.

Matt slid the cake back to Foggy.

“No, we’ll share,” Foggy said. He leaned over and cut the slice in two. “There, two halves.”

Matt chuckled again. “I see what you’re doing.”

“Is it working?”

Matt took another bite in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Foggy said with a smug smile.


	42. Weird weird

Come Sunday morning, Foggy was gnawing on piece of toast in his pajamas when Matt emerged from his bedroom fully dressed. His mouth half-full, Foggy said, “hey, you’re in a shirt and tie.”

Matt patted his chest in mock shock. “Really? How did that happen?”

“Ha ha. But really, what’s going on?”

“I thought I’d go to mass,” Matt said, busying himself with the coffee machine. “It’s been a while.”

Foggy paused. He had been yearning for this moment for weeks: a sign that Matt was re-entering the world – a hint of interest in anything other than sleeping. Foggy wondered if it was just a natural step in Matt’s recovery, or whether it was a response to their moment in Fogwell’s on Friday night. Foggy felt that something had changed in that moment. Perhaps it was the shock of the gym’s closure, or perhaps it was simply the nostalgic effect of the dank smell of ancient sweat and blood.

Foggy took another bite of his toast, using it as an opportunity to ruminate before saying, “are you sure you’re ready?”

Matt raised one eyebrow. “You’ve been trying to get me to leave the apartment for ages. What’s with the sudden discouragement?”

Foggy said delicately, “I-I thought between the Julia disaster and also your seizures and the tired – I dunno.” He paused. “Uh, do you want me to come?”

“No, you hate church.”

“This is true. What about a mutually advantageous deal: I eat pancakes at our usual diner and if you run into trouble, you call me. You should also take Daisy to alert you of said trouble.”

“Pancakes, huh,” Matt said, a little miffed that Foggy was cheating on their pancake ritual.

Foggy smiled. “Or, I could drink copious amounts of crappy diner coffee until the service ends and then we could eat pancakes together.”

Matt held out his hand. “Deal.”

 

* * *

 

Matt crept into the church just as the service was starting. He had Daisy under one arm to avoid the noise of her claws upon the stone floor. However, as soon as one person turned around, the others quickly followed – a sea of heads swishing around, followed by the inevitable whispering.

Julia and Elizabeth were in the front row, leaving Matt’s favorite back row empty once again. Well, empty apart from the braille-printed readings and hymns. It seemed Father Lantom hadn’t given up on him yet.

As he sat down, Matt heard Julia whisper to her mother, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing. Pay attention to Father Lantom,” Elizabeth replied, turning back to the front.

Matt felt a pang of hurt, but quickly reminded himself that it was Elizabeth’s choice. She’d judged that Matt was dangerous and he had to respect that. Her choice. His own feelings didn’t come into it. He swallowed the lump in his throat and concentrated on getting seated with the least amount of noise possible.

Matt pulled off his fluffy scarf as he sat down. He folded it carefully and laid it on the pew for Daisy, who circled a few times and relaxed into the wool with a sigh. Foggy had scoffed at Matt’s scarf this morning, pointing out that it was t-shirt weather. With Foggy still teasing Matt about the poached chicken he cooked for Daisy, Matt decided not to confess to the real reason for bringing the scarf. He carded his fingers through Daisy’s fur, thankful for her presence.

A few times during the service, Matt found himself jerking awake as his head lolled sideways. Each time he berated himself, pinching his hand until he was well and truly alert. When it came time for communion, Matt stayed seated in the last row. He couldn’t remember the last time he attended confession.

Daisy jumped off the bench and started snuffling around the floor. Matt reached under the pew to retrieve her, but only succeeded in bumping his head against the curved wood. “Ow”, he hissed. “Daisy, come.” Daisy trotted back to Matt’s outstretched hand, but wriggled in protest when he tried to pull her back onto his lap. “Sit,” he whispered to her as he plonked her back on the scarf. She wagged her tail in response. She was clearly antsy and ready to leave.

Matt thought of Foggy waiting on his own in the nearby diner and made a snap decision. He bundled Daisy up and crept out of the church, pausing only briefly to cross himself.

 

“You’re early,” Foggy said as Matt slipped into the diner booth.

“The service was nearly finished,” Matt said.

“ _Nearly_ finished,” Foggy repeated with raised eyebrows. “You weren’t trying to get out of talking to Julia and Elizabeth?”

Matt shook his head. “I was more worried about falling asleep. There’s something about the incense. It’s like it hits a switch in my brain... or something.”

“Well, I can’t pretend to be disappointed that you left early. I’m starving.”

Matt opened his mouth to tease Foggy about his hyperbole, but was interrupted by the waiter. “Can I get you anything, sir?”

“Oh, yes, pancakes. Plain with syrup.” Matt’s usual.

“Would you like bacon with that?”

He could sense Foggy nodding encouragingly, so Matt said, “yes, on the side, thank you.”

“Choc-chip with bacon for me,” Foggy said. “And maybe I’ll switch to decaf now.”

As the waiter left the table, Matt teased, “I can feel the table shaking from all the caffeine you’ve consumed.”

Foggy raised his hands. “What can I say? I was hungry. I used coffee to fill the void.”

Unlike the previous weekend’s pancake date, Matt was in a good enough mood that he engaged in banter, chatting about the weird music in the lobby of Danny’s apartment, the new hot dog stand near their office with the less-than-sanitary warmer, Danny’s repeated watching of the Neverending Story (which he didn’t realize Matt and Foggy knew about), and the annoying new habit Daisy had acquired: licking her paws. It started to feel like old times.

The easy conversation didn’t last though. Just as they were finishing up to leave, Matt said, “I want to go home, Fogs.”

“Yeah, we’re going.” Foggy turned around and met eyes with the waiter, signaling for the check.

“I mean, I want to go back to our apartment – I-I want to move out of Danny’s.”

“Is that wise? I mean, I know you’re getting steadier on your feet and your seizures are less frequent, but you’re not exactly in fighting shape – particularly if someone is specifically targeting you.”

“Danny’s place – he-he’s generous letting us stay – but it’s not the same. I feel like a guest.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. It still doesn’t change the fact that you’re safer there.”

Matt grumpily pulled out his wallet and drew out a couple of bills. He’d forgotten to fold them according to currency last time he’d withdrawn money and had just been trusting vendors to give him the correct change ever since. But it’d now got out of hand. He took it as yet another indication that he was becoming unacceptably lazy and ill-disciplined, rather than acknowledging the effect that the constant seizures was having on his memory.

Matt held out the unidentified bills to Foggy. “Is this enough?”

“Too much,” Foggy replied, plucking just one of the bills from Matt’s hand. He saw the miserable look on Matt’s face, and said, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t make that face for nothing.”

Matt sighed. “I-I forgot to fold my bills awhile back and then I paid for that cab and-”

“Do you want me to sort them?”

When Matt hesitated, Foggy joked, “I’m not going to rip you off, I promise.”

Matt gave an amused huff and slid the wallet across to Foggy.

As Foggy folded each of the bills according to Matt’s code, he considered the possibility of moving back home. After returning the wallet Foggy said, “okay, so if we’re going to move home, we need to look at the security on the apartment. In other words, we not only start locking the roof access door, but also put a deadlock on that thing.”

“Easy enough to pick,” Matt said dismissively.

“Not everyone can pick a lock in under five seconds,” Foggy said, earning a smug smile from Matt. “Anyway, I was thinking locks on the doors and windows. Maybe an alarm.”

“Foggy, if an alarm goes off in my apartment, it essentially disables me too. As you said, I’m not at the top of my game. I don’t need a piercing noise disorienting me as well.”

“Good point. Maybe we could get a soft alarm.” Foggy paused as the waiter returned with the check. As they got up to leave, Foggy said, “so, should we take Daze to the dog park now?” Daisy gave a couple of spins at her name.

“I think she’s answered your question,” Matt replied.

“You’re not too tired?”

“I’m always tired – at the moment.” Matt quirked one side of his mouth and said, “but hey, I managed to work in a nap last time. I wouldn’t be against returning to that grassy knoll.”

* * *

 

When they reached the park, they headed straight for Matt’s knoll. Matt carefully folded the scarf as he’d done earlier in the church, but this time placed it on a soft patch of grass to serve as a pillow. He flopped onto his back, his eyes already closed in anticipation of his nap. “Mmm… this is the dog walk I needed,” Matt said to Foggy.

Matt had barely fallen asleep when Daisy came racing back from the nearby shrub she’d been sniffing. She gave a small bark and clawed at Matt’s pants before leaping over his body to lick his hand.

Unsure as to whether Matt was still asleep, Foggy leaned over and said in a low voice, “uh, Matt?”

But Matt was fast asleep, blissfully unaware of Daisy’s alert.

“I knew this would happen eventually,” Foggy said to himself. He pulled out the portable oxygen machine he’d been lugging around all morning, glancing around to see if anyone was watching. He’d already had to use it earlier that week when Matt had a seizure at the office, but it was quite something else hooking Matt up to oxygen in a public space. The two small children playing nearby paused and wandered over to see what Foggy was doing. He was about to tell them to scram when Matt’s seizure hit.

“What’s that?” one of them asked, pointing at the oxygen.

“Why is he shaking?” the other asked.

“Sam, Archie, come back here,” a woman called, rushing over to retrieve the children. She averted her eyes from Matt as she grabbed the arms of the two boys. “Don’t stare,” she hissed as she dragged them back to the picnic rug.

The seizure was over in fewer than twenty seconds. As he waited for Matt to rouse, Foggy glanced at the food and drink-laden rug. There were a number of untouched bottles of water sitting next to a salad bowl. The woman was pointedly not looking in their direction.

“Excuse me,” Foggy called. The woman pretended not to hear. “Excuse me please,” Foggy said a little louder.

A large man stepped in front of Foggy. “Do you need help, sir?”

Foggy glanced over at the woman again, who averted her eyes as she noticed Foggy’s gaze.

“Can I help?” the stranger repeated.

“Uh, yeah, hang on.” Foggy reached for his wallet and pulled out a couple of bills. “Could you get us a bottle of water from the cart down there?” Foggy pointed past the picnic at the icecream cart.

“Maybe this lady could help,” the man replied, starting down the slope.

He addressed the picnicking family with a small bow. “Could these gentlemen please have a bottle of your oh-so-beautiful water?”

The woman blushed and stuttered, “uh, we only have four.”

Her husband chimed in, “there’s a vendor just over there. We paid for this water.”

“Surely your sense of common decency would allow you to see that this poor man is in need?”

One of the children grabbed the nearest bottle and held it out for the stranger.

“Archie, no,” the mother said.

The stranger bowed his head and said, “thank you, young man. It was a generous act.”

Foggy rolled his eyes. All this over a bottle of water. He didn’t dwell on it long, interrupted by Matt’s small moan. “Hey, Matty,” Foggy whispered. “You had a seizure, but I’m here, Daisy’s here. We’re not going to leave you.”

Matt brushed at his ear, accidentally hooking his finger over the looped oxygen cannula.

“Come on, buddy. Leave it. Just for a short time.” Foggy replaced the tubing and distracted Matt by holding his hand. Matt scrunched up his face, protesting the itch of the tube. It dislodged again. Foggy readjusted it and kept his hand on Matt’s cheek, holding the cannula in place. Calmed by the gesture, Matt’s face relaxed and his grip on Foggy’s hand loosened.

The stranger crouched beside Foggy and unscrewed the bottle cap. “Here you go,” he said. Gesturing at Archie, who had followed him up the knoll, he said, “this young gentleman here has kindly given you some water.”

Foggy didn’t have time for theatrics. He simply said, “thanks. Could you hold it for a moment longer please.”

“The puppy’s licking his hand,” Archie said, pointing at Daisy. He dashed forward to pat Daisy.

“Uh, it’s best if you don’t do that,” Foggy said irritably. “She’s focused on her owner right now. She’s trying to help.”

“I helped,” Archie said.

“Indeed you did,” the stranger said indulgently.

Ignoring the bizarre conversation, Foggy whispered to Matt, “Matty, can you squeeze my hand? Good… now open your eyes.”

“He might be more comfortable if he had some shade,” the stranger chimed in. A moment later, he unfurled a pocket umbrella and held it above Matt’s face.

Foggy gave the stranger a wary glance. Who took an umbrella out on a sunny day? “That wasn’t necessary,” Foggy muttered, throwing his attention back to Matt.

Matt’s eyes opened a crack. “Good, Matty,” Foggy praised. “Now can you say something for me? I have some water here if you want it.”

“Mmm,” Matt grunted.

“Okay, we’ll sit you up first.” Thankful for the already sloped grass, Foggy pulled Matt upright. Foggy took the water from the stranger with a mumbled, “thanks,” and held the bottle to Matt’s lips.

The stranger cleared his throat. “Should you be giving him water? He might aspirate it.”

“He’s sitting up and he’s thirsty,” Foggy snapped. Without taking his eyes off Matt, he added, “thanks for your help. I think we’re alright now.”

“But you need someone to hold the umbrella.”

“We’ll move into the shade in a moment.”

“I’ll help,” the stranger countered.

“Yeah, I’ll help too,” Archie said.

“Archie, get back here now,” his mother screamed. “We’re leaving. We’ll go without you if you’re not careful.”

It appeared that in the time Foggy had overseen Matt’s seizure recovery, the family had packed up their half-eaten picnic. The parents didn’t even acknowledge Foggy, Matt and the stranger as they left, although Archie and Sam called back, “bye.”

The stranger cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you with the umbrella,” he offered.

“No really, that’s not necessary,” Foggy replied.

“It’s a two-buck umbrella. You’ll get more use out of it than me. I’ll stick to the shadows.”

Foggy sighed. “Okay, thanks.” He felt like adding, “just leave it and scram,” but he held his tongue.

The stranger placed the open umbrella on the grass, and said, “good day sirs,” with a salute.

“Fog,” Matt mumbled. He gave a low moan and jerked his hand away from Foggy’s. Confused, he searched for Foggy’s hand, grasping at the air.

“Yeah, I’m here, Matt,” Foggy said, finding Matt’s hand again and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’re at the dog park. You had a seizure, but you’re safe. We even have a nice umbrella so that you can have a bit more privacy.”

“Fog,” Matt repeated.

“Do you need anything?”

Matt swallowed. “I-I-” He lay there for a moment, his breath still coming in labored puffs.

“Take your time, Matty. Have a snooze. We’ll head home when you wake up. You’re safe here with me and Daisy.” With perfect timing, Daisy snuggled her head into Matt’s chest.

It seemed to satisfy Matt because his breathing soon slowed and he appeared to be fast asleep. Foggy lay back on the grass and propped the umbrella up so that it cast shade over both their heads. A public park wasn’t the ideal place to have a seizure, but there were worse places. And at least the grass was soft and the weather fine.

As Matt’s nap neared the two-hour mark, Foggy checked the pulse ox monitor and made the executive decision to remove the oxygen. He’d told Matt time and time again that there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but it didn’t seem to make a difference to Matt’s self-consciousness and associated anxiety levels. He’d be less anxious waking without the oxygen. Foggy carefully pulled the tubing from Matt’s face, gently lifting his head as he unlooped it from his left ear. Foggy made a mental note to thank Danny for the machine when they returned home.

Matt woke as soon as the oxygen was turned off, disturbed by the sudden absence of blasted air up his nostrils and the accompanying whirr of the machine. Matt’s nose itched, irritated by the dry air, yet he stayed absolutely still as Foggy removed the cannula, not quite ready to interact just yet.

Gradually, Matt took in his surroundings, focusing on his immediate vicinity in a vain attempt to distract himself from the screaming children in the nearby playground. He could hear creatures scuttling around in the grass below his head. A worm was munching its way through the soil near his left ear, slowly displacing the earth in front of it. A fly buzzed near his face and he instinctively waved it away.

“Matt, hey, you’re awake,” Foggy said.

Matt lifted his head an inch before flopping back into the scarf. The muscles in his back twinged, and he held his breath, hoping it wouldn’t turn into a full-blown cramp. Once he was satisfied the threat had passed, he rolled onto his back. “Fog-” he started, his mouth clicking with dryness. “Do you have any-”

“Water? Indeed I do. Sit up first.”

Matt struggled upright and after chugging the remaining water, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, manners be damned.

Foggy took the empty bottle. “Do you want me to get more?”

Matt gave a single shake of his head.

Foggy suspected Matt wasn’t genuinely sated, but he didn’t push. “Okay, well, when you’re ready we can go hom-back to Danny’s.”

Matt nodded, but found himself slumping back into the grass.

“Or we could stay here for a bit longer until you wake up properly,” Foggy suggested.

Matt gave a small grunt of approval. Despite the ambient park sounds, itchy grass and persistent fly, he was actually rather happy lying on the knoll. The fresh air was nicer than Danny’s air-conditioning and staying put meant that he didn’t have to drag his aching, tired body to the taxi rank.

Foggy said, “plus, Daisy’s not really had a proper run. She was more concerned with you than the other dogs.”

Matt reached out and scratched Daisy under the ears. “Precious dog,” he murmured. Daisy leaned into Matt, assuming he wanted to cuddle. “No, go and play,” Matt corrected. He made a small shooing motion and after a moment’s hesitation, Daisy trotted off after a spritely-looking sausage dog.

“Now that Daisy’s doing her dog thing, I’ll get us some icecream,” Foggy said, reaching for his wallet.

Before Matt could object, Foggy patted his empty jeans pocket and said, “that’s weird.” He checked the bag holding the oxygen machine. His phone that he’d tucked into a small pocket in the side of the bag was still there, but no wallet.

“What’s wrong?” Matt half-sat up on his elbows.

“My wallet. It’s gone.”

“Could you have left it in the diner?”

“Maybe,” Foggy said, but he sounded unconvinced. “I’m sure it was in my pocket.” He thought back and remembered handing the stranger a couple of dollars to buy some water. “I had it here earlier.” He stood up and looked around. “Where did it go?”

Matt reached for his wallet. But that was missing too. He felt for his phone. Also missing. “How did we get pickpocketed? Did anyone help when I was seizing?”

“There was a small kid and a weird man. Kinda posh.”

“Weird how?”

“I dunno. _Weird_ weird – it-it was just a feeling.” Foggy shrugged. “I’ll call the cops.”

“Now? I have a better idea-”

“Don’t say you’re going to don the horns and chase after him yourself.”

Matt gave Foggy a withering look. “Do I _look_ like I’m about to chase anything? I was going to suggest the tracker app on your phone.”

“Oh yeah. Genius!”

Matt snorted. “Hardly.”

Foggy opened the app. “Hey, it says it’s here.”

“Where?”

Foggy squinted at the screen, angling it to reduce the glare.

“Down there,” Foggy said, pointing at the garden bed near the icecream van. Following the signal, Foggy trotted towards the bed of brightly colored spring bulbs. Daisy followed closely behind, always up for an adventure. An elderly woman sitting on a nearby park bench looked disapprovingly at Foggy as he stepped into the garden. There, nestled within a clump of begonias, was his wallet. “Oh,” Foggy said, picking it up. He pushed the flowers aside and there was Matt’s wallet and phone. “Weird.”

Matt tipped his head as Foggy neared. “You found our wallets,” he deduced.

“Yeah, and your phone.” Foggy passed Matt his items.

Foggy flipped open his wallet. “That’s weird. All my cards are still here - and my bills. What about you?”

“Uh,” Matt ran his fingers over his cards and then felt for the cash. He handed the wallet to Foggy. “You only just sorted the bills. Can you check?”

Foggy counted under his breath. “Yeah, it’s all there,” he concluded. “So strange.”

“Why would someone steal wallets and a phone and then dump them?”

“Beats me. Is your phone tampered with?”

Matt handed the phone to Foggy. “Can you see any unusual icons?”

“This is why you need a password,” Foggy said.

“Not now, Fog. I don’t need a lecture. Just answer the question.” Matt leaned forward with his head in his hands. His brain hurt and he didn’t know how to interpret this strange event.

“Well, there’s nothing visibly unusual,” Foggy concluded. “But you should change your passwords anyway. I guess we should call the cops too.”

“And tell them nothing was stolen? What’s the point?”

“I dunno. There was something creepy about the guy. I can’t put my finger on it.” Foggy remembered the man’s parting words: I’ll stay in the shadows. “How could I be so stupid that I managed to get pickpocketed in broad daylight” he said to himself.

“You’re not stupid,” Matt said. “You were distracted. It’s easy to pickpocket someone when their focus is elsewhere.”

“Okay, that kind of comment doesn’t help, Matt.”

“What? I’m very capable of committing crimes as well as preventing them.”

“Also not helping,” Foggy muttered as he picked up his phone.

Foggy cleared his throat as he waited for the pick up. “Hi, Brett,” he said brightly, earning an eyeroll from Matt. “How do you know it’s not a social call?.... Good point.” Foggy picked at the grass, intermittently, saying, “yes, also a good point.” Eventually Brett ran out of reasons why Foggy’s call couldn’t possibly be social, so Foggy leapt in with, “well, in actual fact, Matt and I just got pickpocketed. Matt had a seizure-”

Foggy put his hand over the phone and hissed at Matt, “ _stop kicking me. Brett needs to know_.”

Foggy adopted a business-like tone as he returned to the call. “Sorry, Brett. Yeah so Matt had a seizure and while I was helping him, our wallets and Matt’s phone was stolen… yeah, some weird guy… I dunno. He was just weird.”

Matt rolled his eyes again.

“Local police station,” Foggy repeated. “Can’t you send someone?” Foggy cringed at Brett’s response. “Okay, okay, give me the number… oh I forgot to mention, we found the wallets and phone…. Nearby. Maybe 100 feet away…. Yeah but they were still stolen… Uh huh… uh huh… Brett, are you there?”

Foggy dropped his phone onto the grass and explained to Matt, “apparently it’s his day off.”

Matt shrugged. “I guessed as much.”

Ten minutes later, a couple of cops approached Matt and Foggy on their knoll, saying that they’d had a report of a pickpocketing (“see? I knew Brett would come through,” Foggy whispered to Matt). The cops didn’t say much, just jotting down Foggy’s vague description of the man (“just weird, I dunno.”), and getting their contact details.

As they were finishing up, Foggy joked to the officers, “it’s a shame Daredevil wasn’t here to stop the pickpocketer,” earning a small groan from Matt.

“I thought Daredevil didn’t leave Hell’s Kitchen,” one of the cops said.

“You’re right. Silly me,” Foggy replied. He turned to Matt, “that’ll teach us to leave the Kitchen, eh Murdock?”

Matt rolled his eyes under his glasses, but went along with the charade, nodding as he said, “indeed. Lesson learned.”

Their radios crackled and announced a nearby incident involving a squirrel, a teenager and a skateboard. The officers exchanged a look of dread. One of them stepped aside to respond to the call while the other said to Foggy and Matt, “well, we’ll let you two enjoy the sunshine.”

“Thanks, officer,” Foggy said. Matt just sat there on the knoll hugging his knees, but he gave the cops a wave as they left.

A few minutes later, Foggy said, “shit, I forgot to give them the umbrella for prints.”

“They’re not going to look for prints, Fog,” Matt said tiredly. “We have our wallets and our phones. They have bigger problems to deal with.”

“I guess,” Foggy said, suddenly deflated. He patted Matt’s arm. “I’m sorry the day didn’t turn out so well.”

Matt gave Foggy a rueful smile. “Apart from the seizure and the pickpocketing, I thought it was rather nice actually. Compared to recent events, it was relatively uneventful too. No druggings, no police assaults.”

Foggy snorted. “You’re a strange man, Matt Murdock. Very strange. But if you’re happy with today, I’m happy.”


	43. Bugs

Foggy had planned to catch up with some old college friends Sunday afternoon - a commitment Matt insisted he keep, despite the morning's drama. Foggy made a single, fruitless attempt to get Matt to join them before leaving him to chill for the afternoon.

“Do you want me to make you a cup of tea before I leave?”

“Just go, Fogs. I’m fine.”

“Okay, okay, I just know you’re tired after the seizure and all.”

“But I can get my own tea.”

“I know, sorry. I guess I’ll see you tonight. Call me if Daisy alerts you.”

Matt gave Foggy a wave, and breathed in relief once Foggy had closed the front door behind him. He couldn’t remember the last time Foggy had gone out socializing. He’d been so involved in Matt’s life and his recovery that he’d neglected his other friends for far too long.

Matt sighed and got up from the couch, padding into the kitchen in socked feet towards the kettle. He touched the small tea collection, finally settling on the Russian Caravan. It seemed like a Russian Caravan kind of afternoon: smoky and mysterious.

After sitting on the couch for a good ten minutes, Matt felt unexpectedly bored. He’d not experienced boredom since the tasering – not this kind of boredom at least. This last month had been day after day of tiredness and a lack of interest in anything and everything. His aim had merely been to get through each day with the least amount of pain possible. This feeling right now was a slight restlessness - a feeling that he wanted to know something or do something. He balanced the cup of tea on the arm of the couch and reached for his phone, instructing it to search for information on Fogwell’s. He tried a few different search terms until something finally came up: a brief mention of the gym’s closure within a larger article on gentrification. It didn’t indicate what was happening to the site, whether it had been sold, or marked for redevelopment. Matt was listening the end of the article when there was the unmistakable sound of Danny at the front door.

“Hey, man, what are you listening to?”

“Nothing,” Matt said, double tapping the screen to pause the reader. He reconsidered and said, “just something about gentrification in the city.”

“Work?”

Matt shook his head. “No. The gym I – I used to go to has closed.”

“And you have to find a new one?”

“That’s not the point.”

“There’s one at Rand you could use.”

“No, that’s not the point. It – Fogwell’s had significance. It was a boxing gym – my dad’s training spot. I practically grew up there.”

“Ah,” Danny replied.

“I mean, I went there too... until recently – but after hours, when I could be alone.” Matt picked at the lint on his sweats. “It-it’s peaceful.”

“I could set something up here – there’s an empty room upstairs. We could get some bags, whatever you want.”

Matt gave a huff of annoyance. “It’s not about me. I want Fogwell’s to stay. It’s part of the city’s history – the good and the bad. I’m scared it’ll be turned into expensive apartments, or worse, a fancy gym with treadmills and Pilates and…” Matt waved his hand to say, _you get the gist._

“So you’re saying we should buy it?”

Matt raised his eyebrows and said in a slow voice that would usually be used to address a child, “no, that’s _not_ what I’m saying.”

“Really? I thought it was a good solution. I’ve got the money.”

“I’m sure you do,” Matt muttered.

There was a heavy silence before Danny said, “hey do you want to meditate with me?”

“I meditate alone.”

“Come on, Matt. Don’t be like that,” Danny said in a tone that indicated he meant business. He wandered over to the middle of the room, sat cross-legged on the carpet, and tapped the floor beside him.

Matt could sense the tenseness in Danny’s muscles as he waited for Matt. Sensing that Danny wasn’t about to give up anytime soon, Matt heaved himself up off the couch. He dropped a cushion onto the floor and slowly lowered himself to the floor, groaning as his post-seizure muscle ache protested the cross-legged position. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Danny did the same. Their breathing quickly fell into sync, and far from putting Matt on edge, Danny’s presence seemed to anchor him and drown out his own aches and pains.

It was a good number of hours before Matt drew himself out of his meditative state. He yawned and stretched.

“Good eh?” Danny said, stretching his arms above his head. He jumped up and bounded into the kitchen. “I’m going to make us some tea.”

Matt nodded. He was feeling soporific and had no immediate plans to move anyway.

They drank the pot of tea in silence, something that Matt didn’t realize Danny was capable of doing until this moment.

The silence was disturbed by the return of Foggy, who stopped still and gave a small chuckle at the sight of the two men sitting cross legged around a pot of tea. “Hey, is this a tea party?”

“Join us," Danny said. “I’ll make another pot.”

“It’s okay,” Foggy replied. “I’m not much of a tea drinker.” He wandered into the kitchen and after a brief consideration, poured himself a nip of whiskey.

Matt raised his eyebrows at Foggy as he joined them on the floor.

Misinterpreting Matt’s expression, Foggy said, “sorry, do you want one?”

Matt shook his head. He could smell the liquor on Foggy’s breath. He tipped his head and smiled. “Who won?”

“Huh? Oh, we did.” Foggy hadn’t told Matt that he was meeting friends to watch the game. “How did you know? How did you know I watched the game?”

“You smell like that sportsbar you loathe. But you go there because the multiple screens allow you to move tables if there’s an obnoxious group nearby. If you weren’t watching a game, you would’ve gone somewhere less seedy.”

Foggy huffed in amusement and took a sip of his whiskey.

“Maybe I will have one,” Matt said, uncrossing his legs.

“I’ll get them,” Danny said, leaping to his feet.

“Bring the bottle,” Foggy called as he took the last sip from his glass, earning a snort from Matt.

After half a nip of whiskey, Matt flopped onto his side and closed his eyes.

“Dude, you are not going to sleep here,” Foggy said. He gave Matt a prod.

“You’re not my real mom,” Matt said sleepily. The combination of seizure fatigue, reduced tolerance and the effect of his many medications had made the whiskey more potent than usual.

Foggy rolled his eyes. Matt only used that phrase when he was trying his best to be annoying. “At least let me help you to the couch,” Foggy replied.

“M’fine here. Just resting my eyes,” Matt mumbled.

“Sure you are,” Foggy chuckled, reaching for the bottle of whiskey. He poured another nip and laughed again.

Matt frowned. “What?”

“Oh, just remembering that time you curled up on the floor in college after too much whiskey. You declared you were sleeping there for the night.”

Daisy came wandering in from the balcony and spotted Matt on the floor. She ran over to join in the fun, nuzzling his chest so that Matt squirmed and curled in on himself.

Danny was always keen to hear Matt and Foggy’s college stories, having missed out on the experience himself. He mimicked Foggy, pouring himself a second drink, then said, “what happened?”

“Oh,” Foggy said, lowering his drink. “Ohhh,” he repeated in a meaningful tone.

Matt raised his head, gleaning that Foggy had just put two and two together.

Foggy narrowed his eyes. “You were going on about your sheets feeling like sandpaper. I thought you were just being silly, but you weren’t, were you?”

“My tongue was just loose,” Matt said sleepily.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There was a heavy silence during which Danny looked from Matt to Foggy, trying to figure out what was going unsaid.

Matt licked his lips. He eventually whispered, “I don’t know. I wish – I wish I could go back. I wish I could change things.” He gave a grim chuckle. “I’d change a lot.” He pushed himself up into a seated position and sat there leaning against one hand. When Foggy didn’t respond, Matt got to his feet and padded into his bedroom.

He listened to Foggy and Danny clear way the glasses and teapot and head towards their respective bedrooms. It was an unexpected downer to what might have been his best day in months.

 

* * *

 

“Morning, sunshine!” Foggy called the next morning as he pulled open Matt’s blinds. “It’s Monday morning, there’s no sun outside, but that’s okay because I have a hangover and I don’t think I could cope with sun.”

Matt rolled over with a groan. “M’gonna stay home.”

“Nope. If I’m going to work, you’re going to work. Come on, up, shower, dress. Get up, Matty.”

“Later. Seizure hangover,” Matt mumbled into the pillow.

Foggy bit his lip. It had been long established that Matt needed rest the day after seizures and Foggy didn’t want to argue otherwise. “Okay,” Foggy eventually said. “But come into work later if you can. It’ll make you feel better.”

Matt gave a grunt of agreement before pulling the blankets over his head.

 

To Foggy’s surprise, Matt turned up at the office just after lunch.

“You came!... although you’re a bit underdressed,” Foggy said, looking Matt up and down. Far from his office attire, Matt was wearing sneakers, sweats and a hoodie.

“I came,” Matt echoed. “Give me your wallet.” He held out his hand.

“My - huh?”

Matt wiggled his fingers, his hand still outstretched.

“Uh, okay,” Foggy said uneasily. Matt followed him into his office. “Do you mind telling me why?”

Matt grabbed Foggy’s wallet and pulled out all the cards, dumping them on Foggy’s desk. He felt into one of the crevices and pulled out a thin cartridge about an inch in length.

Foggy moved closer. “What’s that?”

Matt dropped it on the ground and stamped on it with his heel.

“Matt wha-what in earth?”

Matt silently picked up the mangled cartridge and held it to his ear. He nodded. “It’s dead.”

“You need to tell me what that was – and what you’re doing.”

“It was some kind of bug.”

“Huh? Why?”

Matt shrugged. “All I know is that the pickpocketing yesterday wasn’t about stealing anything – it was about planting these bugs.”

“For what purpose?”

“I don’t know, Foggy. What cases are we working on that could warrant a bug?”

“Uh, well, I guess Melvin’s drugging. Maybe your case with the cops? As far as they know you’re still open to pursuing a civil case. Hell, it could be our Assistant DA you keep flirting with, even though she’s snooping around and _alleging_ an association with Daredevil.” Foggy looked around the room and called loudly, “did you hear that, whoever you are? _Alleged_ association.”

Matt flopped into the chair opposite Foggy’s desk.

Foggy said, “so how did you know – did you have one too?”

“Yeah,” Matt said, running his hand through his hair. “I could sense the transmission. I-I guess I missed it yesterday when my senses were all screwed after the seizure.”

“It’s amazing that you can sense it at all,” Foggy said. “Uh, so what now? We call the cops?”

“No, as you said, the cops might have planted it.”

“Okay, we call Brett.”

Matt licked his lips and sat there in thought for a moment. “Where’s Karen?”

“Archives. Doing research for the Fulton case.”

Matt pulled out a small plastic bag into which he dropped Foggy’s bug.

“What are you doing with that?”

Matt stood up. “I’m going to visit Melvin.” He gestured at Daisy, “come on, girl, we’re going.”

“Matt, is that a good idea? What if-”

“Danny’s waiting downstairs with the car.”

“Oh - oh good,” Foggy said, walking over to the window. “Call me-”

But Foggy was cut off by the sound of the door shutting behind Matt.


	44. It takes a village

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I think I have a chapter count, it blows out because I get diverted by rubbish things like milk. I don't even drink milk! Anyways, enjoy (and comment if you have the will - I love 'em).

“It doesn’t have audio capacity,” Melvin said, looking through his microscope. “It’s a tracker. New technology too. I don’t think I’ve seen this on the open market.” He looked up at Matt. “Where did you say you got this?”

“It was planted in someone’s wallet.” Matt pulled out a second bag holding the bug that had been hidden in his own wallet. “Is this one the same?”

Melvin briefly inspected it. “Yeah, a tracker. No audio.”

Matt leaned against the bench with a heavy sigh.

“How are you doing, Mr Daredevil? You look better.”

Matt smiled at the use of his alter ego’s name. He’d allow it this once. “I’m feeling better,” Matt replied. “I’m not quite ready to take to the streets again though.”

“I have that new suit for you,” Melvin said. “It’s like your old hoodie, but it’s stronger. I think it’d be able to protect you from tasers.”

Matt raised his eyebrows. “I have no plans to be in that kind of situation again,” Matt pointed out.

“Yeah, but you can never be too careful. Word on the street is that people are being drugged again, but not just people associated with Fisk. Kids even.”

“Who said that?”

“Betsy. She said to be careful.”

“Huh.”

“You should be careful too, Mr Daredevil – Matt.”

“I will, Melvin. And thank you.”

Melvin held up the two bugs. “Do you want these back?”

Matt hesitated.

“If you don’t, I wouldn’t mind keeping them.” Melvin quickly added, “for research purposes.” He scratched his chin. “Maybe I could do something with the tech. It’s pretty cool.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Matt fingered his phone. “I-I have another request… uh, my phone was stolen. I-I’m worried someone might have put something on it – a virus or something. I don’t know much about these things. Do you know how to check?”

“I can take a look. Might take some time though. You-you want to wait?”

“If you don’t mind,” Matt said. Danny was waiting outside in the car, even though Matt had made it clear that he didn’t have to stick around. Matt had briefly considered introducing the two men, but he decided not to risk spooking Melvin by bringing a new person into the workshop. Danny would just have to wait a little longer.

Melvin rushed over to his bar fridge and grabbed a couple of bottles. He shook them enthusiastically and handed one to Matt.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Matt said, shaking his hand.

“It’s good. You look like you need it. Sometimes I forget to eat when I’m down here – when I’m working on a project, you know. But Betsy says this is good –n-not always, but when I’m distracted… yeah.”

Melvin’s tone was such that Matt felt he couldn’t refuse. He opened the bottle and took a sniff. It was just chocolate milk. “Thanks, Melvin,” he said, gingerly taking a sip while listening to Melvin chug half his bottle in one go. From what Matt could tell, it was quality milk with real cocoa. It wasn’t bad.

By the time Melvin had finished checking the phone, Matt had finished his milk and was sitting on a corner chair with Daisy in his lap.

“There’s nothing suspicious on there as far as I can tell,” Melvin said, handing the phone back to Matt. “It’s hard to put malware on these phones. There are apps, but apart from that one you said Mr Nelson uses, there’s nothing that could be used against you. I deleted it and re-installed the location finding app just in case. You’ll have to add permissions and everything again.”

“That’s fine,” Matt said. “Thanks, Melvin. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help.”

Melvin jumped up and grabbed a folded bundle of clothing. He pressed it into Matt’s arms. “Here, take it. Stay safe out there.”

“You shouldn’t have-”

“Friends keep friends safe,” Melvin said. “We help each other.”

Matt gave a single nod and left with a wave of his hand.

 

“Oh good, you’re back just in time,” Danny said as soon as Matt returned to the car. “You have your appointment with Ian in fifteen minutes.”

“What? Oh – no. I don’t want to-”

“You _have_ to go.”

Matt gave an exasperated groan. “Not you too. I get enough of this from Foggy.”

“Foggy said-”

“I don’t care what Foggy said,” Matt snapped. “I have things to do.”

“Metro General,” Danny told their driver.

Matt went to get out of the car, but Danny crash tackled him and pinned him against the back seat. “Matt,” Danny said slowly, “you have time afterwards to do whatever sleuthing you need to do. And I’ll help you too – whatever you need.”

Matt elbowed Danny in the chest, freeing himself from Danny’s grip. But he didn’t jump out of the car. He just leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. “Fine. I’ll go,” Matt said. “But not because you’re making me – I’m going because I want to do it.”

It was true, Matt did want to go to his physical therapy session. Going to Ian’s sessions was part of the resolution Matt had made just a couple of days ago to try harder to increase his strength. The fact that the druggings were on the rise – according to Melvin, at least - only increased the urgency. Matt hadn’t experienced this drive - this desire to investigate - for so long. It was both thrilling and unnerving.

Matt’s change in attitude wasn’t missed by Ian either. Throughout the session, Ian praised Matt repeatedly for his efforts. Matt attacked the bag with a renewed purpose, his head down and his brow furrowed, focusing on every movement, every connection. As he pummeled the bag, he started to put the puzzle pieces together. Yes, he knew what he had to do now.

Near the end of the session, he got cocky and aimed a high kick at the bag. His body hadn’t made any movement like that kick in months. He felt an excruciating sharp pain in his back and cried out as he fell to the floor.

“Matt, stay still,” Ian said, as he rushed to Matt’s side. Matt rolled onto his side and curled up, groaning and panting heavily.

“Where does it hurt?”

“My back, my back,” Matt puffed before arching back with a moan. He reached around and pointed to his lower back. “Urgh, I can’t-”

Daisy leapt over from her waiting spot by the side of the exercise mat. She clawed at Matt’s sweats. Tears of pain started to pour down Matt’s face. “Not now, not now,” he repeated, over and over. “I need to remember.”

“Matt, stay still. We’ll get you help. We can deal with this.”

Ian waved to a nearby colleague and asked for seizure assistance. Blocking out the discussion, Matt closed his eyes and focused on Daisy’s heartbeat. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t, it couldn’t...

 

* * *

 

Matt scratched at his shirt. It was itchy and coarse. He had to get it off. He kicked his legs, shifting the blanket so that it scraped down his arms and legs. It let off an extra puff of antiseptic smell, detectable even over the stream of oxygen up his nose. He reached out and came in contact with plastic-covered padding. There was a corresponding tug on the back of his hand, and he withdrew it quickly, cradling it to his chest. He was in hospital. Great.

“Hey, dude,” Danny said. “You’re finally awake.”

Matt groaned and rolled onto his back, disturbing Daisy who was curled up at his feet. She snuffled up the bed until she was level with his chest, and snuggled into the crook of his arm. Matt ignored her. He felt overwhelmed and disoriented by the noise of the hospital surroundings and was putting all his effort into swallowing the rising nausea.

“You had a seizure during your session with Ian,” Danny explained when Matt didn’t speak.

Matt gagged and reached for Daisy in an attempt to drown out the antiseptic smell.

“Shit,” Danny said, looking wildly around for a bucket. “Um, here’s a bowl if you’re going to be sick,” he said, shoving a plastic container in Matt’s hand.

Matt breathed through narrowed lips, concentrating on the familiar smell of Daisy’s fur. The nausea soon passed.

Danny drummed on the padding nestled against the bed’s railing. “Uh, so Foggy’s just gone to the washroom. He’ll be back.”

That got a reaction from Matt. He opened his eyes and croaked out, “Fo-Foggy’s here?”

“Yeah, I texted him when you seized. He said you’d want him here.”

Matt touched the foreign fabric on his chest and asked, “my clothes?” Matt knew the answer before Danny had even answered.

“Oh yeah, they’re, uh, a bit wet. You-uh… they gave you a gown though.”

Matt unconsciously scratched at his chest at the mention of the hospital-issue gown. He hated the idea of strangers changing his clothes while he was unconscious. It was bad enough when Foggy or Elsa or Paola – or any of the other nurses he knew – changed him. But strangers… He sighed and closed his eyes again, listening for signs of Foggy. Sure enough, there was a crash of a door, followed by the sound of Foggy’s heavy, but rapid footsteps.

“He’s awake,” Danny called across the room to Foggy.

Matt winced and instinctively covered his ears.

“Shit, sorry, Matt. I forgot,” Danny whispered.

Foggy gently tugged Matt’s hand away from his ear. “Hey, buddy. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Matt simply replied. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, trying to fight the fatigue. “Can-can we go?”

“Yep. Gotta sign something, then we can go.” He pulled Matt’s other hand away from his ear. “I’ll get someone to help you with the needle in your hand.”

“Don’t need it,” Matt grumbled. “Don’t need it at home; don’t need it here.”

“Mmm, okay,” Foggy said distractedly. “I’ll be back in a second.” He wandered off to find help.

While he waited for Foggy, Matt listened to the nearby chatter. He was in the odd nook to one side of the physical therapy wing, but there was a curtain half-drawn around Matt’s temporary bed in an attempt to balance Matt’s privacy with the practicalities of monitoring his seizure recovery. Matt knew from experience that this was not the first incident of its kind, but he still felt strange lying here while fellow patients exercised just beyond the curtain.

Foggy returned with Ian, followed by another health practitioner who was foreign to Matt. While Ian chatted to Matt, his colleague took his vitals and removed the medical paraphernalia. It was only at the mention of the heat pad that Matt acknowledged the spot of warmth against his lower back.

“I’ve given Foggy a packet of six single-use heat pads to use at home,” Ian said. “You may not need all of them, but they should relieve the pain.”

Matt frowned. “What happened?”

“You decided to do go from zero to spin-kick in a single session,” Foggy interrupted.

“It was an impressive move,” Ian said to Matt. “Unfortunately, your body wasn’t quite ready. Your muscles are inflamed, but you haven’t done any major damage. We gave you a small dose of benzodiazapam when you seized, which should have relaxed your muscles a little.”

Matt groaned. “Don’t want benzo-”

Ian ignored Matt’s grumbling. “Rest, heat and some anti-inflammatories should put it right, okay, Matt?” When Matt didn’t reply, Ian said, “where did you learn moves like that anyway?”

Matt pretended he didn’t hear the question.

With nothing more to say, Ian offered Matt a spare pair of gym shorts for the journey home. Shortly after, Matt shuffled out of the outpatient area wearing his hoodie and the borrowed shorts, leaning against Foggy on one arm.

They were feet away from Danny’s car when Foggy suddenly stopped.

Matt stumbled slightly. “What?”

“I thought I just saw – never mind.”

“What?”

“I thought I saw Larry Creepston.”

“Who?”

“Just that guy from college who applied for the paralegal position. Cranston, not Creepston – but you know who I mean.”

“I really don’t,” Matt said.

Foggy looked over his shoulder, searching for the creepy man, but either it was a case of mistaken identity, or he’d disappeared into the crowd. Feeling the weight of Matt increase on his arm, Foggy snapped back to the present. “Sorry, Matt. Let’s get you home.”

A few minutes into the car ride home, Matt started to drift off. He jerked his head awake, wincing. He tried to rub the back of his neck, but that merely renewed the pain in his lower back.

“Lean against my shoulder,” Foggy offered. He put his arms around Matt’s back and Matt gratefully leaned into Foggy’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe you thought it was a good idea to do a spin kick,” Foggy said, with a good-humored huff.

“Mmm,” Matt groaned into Foggy’s shoulder. Foggy didn’t know if Matt was agreeing or disagreeing with the statement.

“You’ll get back to your old condition, Matt. I know you,” Foggy said. He paused for a moment, before saying, “so what did you find out about the bugs? Danny said you went to Melvin’s.”

Matt shifted against Foggy’s shoulder. “Mff, can we talk later?”

“Sure.”

 

* * *

 

When they returned from the hospital, Danny took Daisy for a walk around the block, while Matt and Foggy went straight upstairs. As they walked into Danny's apartment, Foggy said to Matt, “you want to go to bed?”

Matt thought for a moment. He wanted nothing more than to go to bed, but he’d made a vow to himself to try and be more social, to engage with others, to try and resist the urge to hide away in his bedroom. “No, I’ll… sit,” Matt said, hobbling towards the couch. “Oh,” he gasped as he went to sit down.

Foggy cringed in sympathy. “I’ll get you a pillow. Do you want a heat pack?”

Matt shook his head. “Not just now. A pillow is enough.”

Foggy ducked into Matt’s bedroom and returned with a fluffy down pillow. After Matt was settled on the couch and the kettle was on, Foggy joined Matt on the couch. “So, can you tell me now what Melvin said?”

Matt brushed the hair out of his face, wincing as his back protested the movement. “Is there- is there any of that whiskey left?”

“This isn’t some crazy diversion, is it?”

“No, just desperation,” Matt grumbled.

Foggy wordlessly got up and poured two nips of whiskey, while Matt started to tell Foggy about Melvin’s findings.

“So why would someone want to track both of us?” Foggy asked, handing Matt his glass.

Matt took a sniff of the whiskey, then rested it on his knee without taking a sip. “Not sure. If they wanted information, audio would have been the way to go, but tracking? I just don’t know.”

“But your phone’s okay,” Foggy said.

“Yeah,” Matt said. “No viruses.”

“What do we do now?”

Matt kept his face tilted towards his lap. He was at a loss. He was in no shape to get out and fight, or even investigate.

“Maybe we could tell Brett – he might have a suggestion,” Foggy said tentatively.

“Not just yet,” Matt said, taking a minute sip of the whiskey. “I wouldn’t mind asking him about the druggings though. Melvin said that the victims are no longer just criminals. There’s been an increase in activity, and I-I-” Matt stopped, his fist clenched.

“You’re recovering from a trauma,” Foggy supplied.

Matt threw back the glass of whisky.

“Go easy,” Foggy warned.

But Matt didn’t care. He closed his eyes in anticipation of the alcohol-induced warmth and fuzziness that would carry him fast to sleep. So much for his vows.

 

* * *

 

Matt slapped his alarm clock. “Eleven twenty-seven AM,” it announced. Matt frowned. He double tapped the clock. “Tuesday,” it said.

He growled as he reached for his phone. His back was still tense and angry. “Ring Foggy,” Matt ordered his phone.

As soon as Foggy picked up, Matt blurted out, “why didn’t you wake me?”

“Hello to you too,” Foggy muttered. “Matt, in case you don’t remember, you had a seizure yesterday. You were tired. Plus your back-”

“But you woke me yesterday morning… despite the seizure in the park.”

There was a heavy sigh from Foggy’s end of the phone. “Matt, I get in trouble no matter what I do. Yesterday, you told me to let you sleep because you’d had a seizure the previous afternoon. This morning, you’re saying I should have woken you. I can’t win.”

Matt bit his lip. “I-I’m sorry, Foggy. I shouldn’t have snapped yesterday.”

“Thanks. I don’t want to fight, but I need you to help me help you.”

There was a heavy silence, then Foggy said, “so do you want to come in?”

Matt threw his attention upstairs. Danny was listening to music through headphones – a 90s trance classic. “Yeah, I’d like a change of scene,” Matt said.

“Remember to put on a suit this time,” Foggy joked.

Matt huffed in amusement. “I will.”

 

Matt emerged from a longer-than-usual shower, pink-skinned and warm. He traced the wall as he made his way back to the bedroom before pausing and pressing two palms to the wall. He couldn’t do push-ups anymore, but against the wall he might be able to. He bent his elbows, feeling the weight of his body against his arms. His lower back twinged in protest, but Matt just clenched his teeth and tried again. After a dozen wall push-ups, he stood back, considering his next move. He was out of shape – yesterday's disaster had only proven just how incapable he was right now, but he wanted - he _needed_ \- to fix that if he was going to stop these druggings.

Matt pulled on his suit and wandered out into the living room where Danny was now making a cup of tea.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were going to work,” Danny said. “You want a cup of tea first?”

“I should go- um, but yeah, I guess I could do tea first. His stomach grumbled, but the idea of food right now seemed too much to handle. He thought back to Melvin’s food substitute. “Danny, do you ever drink chocolate milk?”

“Sometimes. Why?”

“I had – there's-” Matt paused. “Never mind.”

“Okay,” Danny said, confused.

Matt changed the topic. “You know how you mentioned creating a gym. Would that be something you’d do for yourself?”

Danny shrugged. “Maybe. Why?”

“Just wondering,” Matt said cryptically. He intended to accept Danny’s offer of a home gym, but now he felt guilty for considering such an indulgence. He accepted the tea and blew across the top, now eager to get out of the apartment.

They drank their tea in awkward silence until Matt made a quick escape, grabbing his cane and Daisy’s leash and hightailing it out of the apartment.

 

“Come on, Matt. You have to eat,” Foggy begged an hour later. “I’ll get you anything for lunch. _Anything._ ”

“Chocolate milk,” Matt said.

“Huh?”

“It’s in a bottle, um, that’s kind of squat. Plastic wrapped up to the neck.”

“You want chocolate milk?” Foggy looked at Matt in disbelief.

Matt nodded.

“And you want a specific brand, but you don’t know the name?”

Matt nodded again. He drew a shape on the table with his finger. “It looks like this.”

“It looks like a bottle shape,” Foggy sighed.

Matt gave him a frustrated look.

Foggy yelled, “Karen?”

Karen came scrambling into the office. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you know what brand of chocolate milk looks-”

“It’s a squat bottle,” Matt interrupted. He drew a shape on the table again.

“Uh, I- no... but I could go to the shop and find it. It’s gotta be a specific brand?”

Matt gave her an indulgent smile. “Thanks, Kare. You’re the best.”

Foggy rolled his eyes.

 

Half an hour later, Karen returned with a sandwich for Foggy, and a plastic bag filled with five different bottles of chocolate milk.

Matt ran his hands over each one, immediately pushing two aside with a muttered, “wrong shape”.

Foggy crossed his arms. “Why this particular brand? You don’t even like chocolate milk.”

“I need to eat,” Matt said. “You said so yourself.”

“Yeah, but I meant food, not- not-”

Matt tipped his head, waiting for Foggy’s argument.

“Maybe chocolate milk is a good idea,” Foggy eventually capitulated. “Now hurry up and taste them. I can’t stand the suspense.”

Matt opened the first bottle and immediately wrinkled his nose at the scent of fake sugar.

“I’m guessing that’s not it,” Foggy chuckled.

“I’ll drink it,” Karen chimed in. “Don’t waste it.”

Matt tasted the second one before pushing it away.

“I’ll guess I’ll have that one,” Foggy said.

The third one was exactly what Matt wanted.

“The most expensive one,” Karen pointed out.

“Of course,” Foggy said.

Matt took a second sip. “I’ll get some more on the way home,” he said after drinking half the bottle.

* * *

 

As Matt stacked the half dozen bottles of organic chocolate milk into Danny’s fridge that evening, Foggy said, “okay, you gotta tell me: what’s with the chocolate milk?”

“I told you, I have to eat.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been content not to eat for the last month – longer even.”

Matt shrugged. “Maybe I’m changing.”

“I hope so, buddy.”

Danny dashed halfway down the stairs. “Matt! Foggy! Come up here, I have to show you something.”

Foggy glanced at Matt, who looked just as puzzled.

Danny practically dragged them both up the stairs in his haste. “Come! In here!”

The spare room at the top of the stairs was now full of weights and bags and machines. “What do you think?”

“I think... you’ve created a home gym,” Matt said slowly.

“Yeah, come try it out.”

“Uh, my back,” Matt started, but Danny wasn’t even listening. He pulled Matt into the room and made him touch every item.

“What do you think?”

“It’s very...”

“It’s very fancy,” Foggy finished.

Matt tapped one of the bags experimentally. “Where did you get these?”

“My PA at Rand found them,” Danny said.

Matt silently nodded his head and walked over to a second, heavier bag. He rapped his knuckles against it, assessing its weight.

“Maybe - maybe your back will be better tomorrow,” Danny said, his excitement slightly lessened.

“Maybe I’ll give boxing a go,” Foggy said, hitting the smaller bag. “Ow!” Foggy nursed his hand.

Matt chuckled. “You’re doing it wrong, Fogs.”

“Well, show me the right way then, smartass.”

Matt held Foggy’s hand and tucked his fingers into his palm. “You’ll need to wrap your hands before you start with the bags, but first of all, I’ll show you the correct way to hold your hand.”

Foggy smiled and gave Danny a sly wink.


	45. The mystery of Saint Jude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to split a chapter, so the chapter count has gone up once again. I have no self-control when it comes to word count. Happy reading!

“ _Wuff… wuff, wuff... wuff_.”

Matt rolled over in bed with a grunt. Daisy was kicking her legs, letting out small barks in her sleep. Matt gave a small huff of amusement and pulled the blankets back over his shoulders, speculating on the subject of her dreams: the Jack Russell she’d met at the park on the weekend perhaps.

An hour later, Matt was still lying there awake, listening to Foggy’s light snoring from the bedroom upstairs. It was an odd feeling. For the last month or so, he’d barely been able to stay awake, let alone not sleep when desired. He tapped his alarm clock. “1.35 AM”, it announced, earning a groan of frustration from Matt.

Matt kicked off the blankets and padded to the bathroom to refill his glass of water before returning to bed. After another fifteen minutes, he threw back the covers and crept up the stairs to Danny’s home gym, closing the door behind him. He ran his fingers over the bags and then the weights. It had been a week since his back injury and Ian had finally cleared him to return to exercise. Still in his pajamas, Matt wrapped his hands and stood there for a moment, holding the larger bag with both hands. He gave it an experimental tap, then another, building up to his full-forced blows (well, full-forced for his current weakened state). He stopped and took a swig of water, throwing his attention back to Foggy, whose gentle snuffles indicated he was still fast asleep.

Matt turned to the smaller bag and threw himself into an old routine. _Thump… thump thump thump… under thump… thump thump thump_. He paused briefly, panting from exertion. He needed to do better. He recalled Melvin’s warning: _‘word on the street is that people are being drugged again, but not just people associated with Fisk. Kids even.’_

Not on his watch.

Matt was so engrossed in his task that he didn’t hear Foggy’s snort as he woke up, nor the sound of Foggy wandering dazed to the gym door.

The handle turned and Matt froze. Foggy switched on the light and squinted at Matt. He could see Matt’s bare chest and stomach flexing with each panted breath, his pajama top long abandoned in a damp heap on the floor. Matt put a hand through his rumpled hair, meeting a drop of sweat running down his forehead.

Foggy rubbed his eyes and croaked, “Matt, what are you doing?”

“Uh, sorry, Foggy. Did I wake you?”

Foggy raised one eyebrow. “It’s the middle of the night,” he replied in a tone of disbelief.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Matt rolled his shoulders and shook out his hands as if to emphasize the point.

Foggy slumped onto a nearby padded bench that belonged some machine that he had no desire to learn about. He stared at Matt for a good twenty seconds before saying, “what’s wrong?”

“I told you, I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you thought you’d hit something.”

“Don’t reduce it into something negative,” Matt said. “The exercise is good for me. Do you want to continue your lesson from last week? I could teach you-”

“Matt, _stop_ ,” Foggy interrupted. He cradled his forehead in his hands. “You should finish up and get some sleep – remember what Dr Millet said about sleep patterns. This is not the time to lower your seizure threshold. _Please._ ”

Matt rolled his eyes, but he started unwrapping his hands nonetheless.

Foggy got up with a sigh and made his way to the door. With a wave, he croaked, “night, Matt… or morning… whatever it is.”

Sweaty and hot, Matt returned to bed, passing out within minutes.

 

* * *

 

“Morning, sunshine.” Foggy drew Matt’s curtains with a flourish.

Foggy’s wake up calls were starting to feel a bit like Groundhog Day, Matt thought. “It can’t be morning yet,” Matt grumbled.

“Well if you _will_ work out at 2am,” Foggy pointed out.

“I slept afterwards though,” Matt grumbled. He rolled onto his stomach and pulled the blankets over his head.

Foggy crossed his arms. “Okay, if you’re going to go all moody teenager on me, Matthew, I’ll go to work on my own. But you have to explain to our new employee why you weren’t there to greet her on her first day.

Matt pulled the blanket from his head. “Oh, I forgot. Lucy-”

“No, you vetoed Lucy, remember? Ruby, her name is Ruby. Remember it.”

“That’s right,” Matt said with a wave of his hand. His brain was like a sieve at the moment.

 “Does that mean you’re going to get up?”

“Yeah, sorry, Fog.” Matt pushed himself to a seated position with a small groan. “Ow.” He wasn’t expecting his arms to hurt quite as much.

Foggy called over his shoulder as he left the room, “here’s a deal for you: I’ll make you coffee, you have a shower. You smell like a polecat.”

Matt rolled his eyes. He smelled like someone who had gone to bed sweaty, that’s all. But he held his tongue. He lay there listening to Foggy switch on the coffee machine and start the grinder until he couldn’t put it off any longer and reluctantly heaved himself out of bed. Perhaps he’d exercise _before_ bed time next time.

 

* * *

Matt stood back as Foggy gave Ruby the “grand tour” of their office.

“This is my office… where the magic is conducted,” he announced. “And this is the meeting room – which you know already. Sometimes our associate, Candy, works in here when she covers Matt. She tends to come in twice a week, although she’s been nearly full time over the last month because-” Foggy stopped his explanation when he spotted Matt’s stormy face.

He walked over to the kitchenette. “Coffee, tea, water, kettle,” Foggy said, pointing to each one. “That tiny teapot is Matt’s. He has a mean left hook, so I’d steer clear if I were you,” Foggy joked.

“Foggy,” Matt groaned. He turned to Ruby, “Foggy’s joking, of course”.

“I don’t drink tea, so I don’t think I’m a threat,” Ruby said diplomatically.

“Crisis averted,” Foggy chuckled. “And on the topic of Matt, this is his office.”

Matt gave Ruby one of his best smiles. “Don’t you dare, Matt,” Foggy said under his breath.

As Ruby poked her head into Matt’s office, Matt put his hands out and mouthed to Foggy, “what?” But he had the cheeky grin on his face that suggested that he knew exactly what Foggy was warning him against.

Foggy rolled his eyes and returned to the tour. “Um, so Matt sometimes has-”

“Fog, that can wait,” Matt interrupted.

“Uh, sure,” Foggy said. To distract from the awkwardness, he said with a dramatic wave of his hand, “and this is your desk, Ruby”.

He pointed to the extra desk adjacent to Karen’s. The previous week, Foggy had joked about the practical skills of being a Tetris Master as a kid as they’d slotted the table in between the wall and Karen’s desk.

“I know it’s not much,” Foggy said, “but with you on board we’ll have enough money to upsize to a bigger, grander office in no time.”

“It’s great,” Ruby said. “I had to hot desk in my old job, so my own desk is a bit of a treat.”

Foggy looked thrilled. “Well, feel free to bring in cacti or pictures or whatever makes you feel at home. We’re all family here at Nelson & Murdock, cacti included.”

Foggy looked at Karen and Matt for support, both of whom nodded, amused at Foggy’s theatrics. He was in his element.

As Ruby set up her desk, Foggy pulled Matt into his office. “I wasn’t going to do a full introduction to your seizures,” Foggy whispered, “I was just going to say you sometimes rest in your office.”

“She already knows about the seizures,” Matt argued. At the final interviews, he’d made sure their potential employees were aware of the situation, even if he’d not gone into detail. The media interest in the tasering and last year’s assault unfortunately meant that his epilepsy was not exactly a secret anyway.

“So, we’re good?”

“We’re good.” Matt wandered over to his desk. He pulled out his laptop, aware that Foggy was still watching him. After half a minute, Matt stopped what he was doing. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. I-I guess I wasn’t sure if we’d get here.”

“As in hire another employee?”

“Yeah, but also you. Here. Working.”

Matt pushed the glasses up his nose. “Yeah, well, don’t dwell on it too much,” he said dismissively, even though he’d been thinking the same thing recently.

Foggy gave a disappointed sigh and left Matt to his work.

 

* * *

 

As they were leaving work that night, Matt said hesitantly, “I-I think I might pay a visit to Father Lantom if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, sure. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Matt said, smiling in an effort to look convincing. “It’s been a while, that’s all.”

Foggy narrowed his eyes, unconvinced that this spontaneous weekday visit was meaningless. “Do you want me to come – maybe hang out in the car?”

Matt shook his head. “You take Danny’s car. I’ll take a cab.”

“Well, we’ll drop you at the church on the way. How’s that?”

 

Half an hour later, Father Lantom and Matt were nursing decaf lattes.

Once the initial pleasantries were out of the way, Father Lantom said, “so, Matthew, you haven’t told me why you’re here.” He studied Matt for a moment. “Is it about Julia?”

Matt bowed his head over the steaming coffee. “Do you ever think-” He paused, considering the best way to express the feelings of pointlessness that had plagued him all day. “I thought I’d convinced myself that what I do matters – that _I_ matter – but I-I- it’s all a lie. A lie I tell myself just to get up in the morning.”

“Everyone matters, Matthew. No matter who they are, everyone matters.”

“You’re being too generous,” Matt grumbled.

“It’s the Lord who’s generous – not me,” the priest replied. He reached for Matt across the table, but Matt slid his hand away, tucking it into his lap. “Did something happen, Matthew?”

“Life,” Matt simply replied. He couldn’t be bothered elaborating on the druggings – on the uselessness he felt not being able to go out and find the culprits and bring them to justice.

Father Lantom raised his eyebrows and sat back in the chair, waiting for Matt to elaborate. When he didn’t, the priest said, “do you want to take confession?”

Matt reached into his pocket and drew out the card featuring Saint Jude that had been sent to his office a few weeks earlier. “Why did you send me this, Father?”

Lantom reached for the card and examined it carefully. He stared at Matt for a moment before saying, “I’m sorry, Matthew, but I didn’t.”

Matt shook his head. “You sent me the readings, a-and a note.”

“I delivered the readings to hospital, Matthew. But since then, I’ve only printed them for services.” He paused when he saw Matt’s confused face. “I can post them to you if you’d like.”

Matt snatched the card off the table and stood up suddenly. “I-I’m sorry, father, but I have to go.” He grabbed his cane and Daisy’s leash and high-tailed it out of the room.


	46. You're not alone

Matt shivered as he waited for a passing taxi. Father Lantom hadn’t been lying when he said that he hadn’t sent the card featuring Saint Jude (and why would he?). Matt fingered the card as he waited. If it wasn’t Father Lantom, then wouldn’t he have noticed? As he got into the cab, Matt gave the driver Danny’s address, then changed his mind, directing him to his office where the envelope containing the readings and letter remained.

He raced up the stairs to find Karen sitting at her desk.

“Matt, what are you-”

“Karen, why are you still here?”

“That Nichols archive isn’t going to read itself,” Karen said, snapping a folder closed.

“That’s a lie,” Matt said bluntly. He didn’t wait for a reply, heading straight for his office.

“Okay, well what about you?” Karen called.

 “I-I left something behind,” he called back while rifling through his desk drawer.

“That’s a lie too,” Karen said.

Matt strode out of the office, envelope in hand. “No, it isn’t.”

“Can’t blame me for trying,” Karen retorted. “Although there _is_ something you’re not telling me.”

Matt drew out the readings and the letter and took a deep sniff. The most prominent smells were incense mixed with oil from the braille machine. There were traces of people – not those he immediately associated with Lantom though. There was a whiff of cigarette smoke and something sweeter – almost like artificial strawberry flavor.

Matt threw the envelope hard across the room so that it slapped against the filing cabinet. He immediately regretted it at the sound of Karen’s shocked gasp.

Finally, Karen said tentatively, “Matt?”

Matt forced a couple of deep breaths, trying hard to ignore the sparks of rage. He forced his hands to relax, flexing his fingers a few times just as Foggy had taught him.

“I’m sorry, Karen,” he said as soon as he’d started along the path to calm. “I-I just – I’m just trying to work out what I got wrong.” He rubbed his forehead. “I can’t think – I-I can’t…” he petered off, not even able to articulate the feelings of stress and confusion he was currently feeling.

Karen got up from her desk and walked around to face Matt. She clasped one of his hands – a simple gesture, but one that immediately disarmed Matt. She said gently, “can I help?”

Matt licked his lips. “I-I don’t know.”

“Try me.” She pulled his hand to her chest. “Remember when I said you’re not alone? That’s still true. You don’t have to solve every problem yourself, Matt. Just-just let me in.”

Matt opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. Eventually he shook off her hand and walked over to the envelope that was doubled over in the corner of the room. He held it out for her to examine. “What do you see?”

Karen slid the braille sheets out of the envelope.

“No, what do you see on all of it – envelope included. I want every detail.”

“Um, the envelope is addressed to you.”

“How? What does it say?”

“It says, Matt Murdock, 6a-”

“Matt, not Matthew?”

“Yes, that’s what I said,” Karen said, an edge of impatience in her voice. “Why? Is that significant?”

“Father Lantom has never called me Matt in his life.”

“So you think this wasn’t sent by Father Lantom?”

“He-he just told me that he’s never posted anything to my address. He wouldn’t lie.”

“So who did?”

Matt took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to work out… also, _why_? What’s the point?”

“It seems like an odd thing to do,” Karen agreed. She finished describing the envelope and the contents to Matt, but there was nothing more out of the ordinary.

Matt collapsed into a nearby chair. “What-what were you doing? The truth this time.”

“If you must know, I was looking into the ownership of Fogwell’s. You said you didn’t know what was happening to it, and then Foggy told me how much it meant to you-.”

“He shouldn’t have,” Matt grumbled.

“Do you know what I found?”

Matt’s immediate reaction was to say no just to be contrary, but he paused for a moment. Of course he wanted to know. He nodded.

“It was sold to a company called Fear Inc., and then on-sold to none other than Danny Rand.”

Matt sat up in his chair. “What?”

“So you didn’t know?”

“Know?! No, of course not. How- why?” Matt bunched his fist. “Argh. That guy. He doesn’t know when to leave things alone.”

“But isn’t it good? Danny can keep it, turn it into something nice.”

“Fogwell’s was never _nice_ ,” Matt growled. “But that’s not the point.” He put his head in his hands. “I-I don’t know how to have a normal conversation with that guy. Any problem – he just buys it.”

“I’m tempted to hop aboard the anti-rich-folks wagon here, but I’m going to play devil’s advocate instead. I-I think he thinks that’s the best way of helping.”

“Yeah, but it’s always with a credit card. That’s easy. It’s easy to buy stuff.”

“Not if you don’t have any money,” Karen pointed out. “Look, I get it. Neither of us grew up in wealthy households. Sometimes – sometimes it’s hard not to feel a bit resentful of those who have a lot of cash.”

“I’m not resentful.”

Karen shrugged. “Okay,” she said in a tone that said she didn’t believe him one bit. “I guess you should probably move out of his apartment then and return that oxygen machine he bought you.”

Matt scowled. “I’m not a hypocrite.”

“I didn’t say that,” Karen said in a warning tone.

“You implied it. Clear as day.”

“I’m just saying, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Matt sighed. He didn’t have the energy for this kind of argument right now. “Thanks, Karen, for that info. I-I should go home. You should do too. It’s late and we don’t pay you enough.”

“You’re right. Can I have a raise?”

Matt chuckled.

“I’m serious, Matt.”

“Oh, um, we’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Matt said awkwardly. “Foggy, um…”

Karen smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Matt shoved the braille documents back into the envelope. “Thanks for your help tonight.”

“Pleasure. You will always have help – you just need to ask.”

Matt gave a single nod and exited without another word.

 

* * *

 

Matt didn’t confront Danny about the purchase of Fogwell’s when he returned to the apartment. Instead, Matt headed straight for the home gym and took his frustration out on the bags, pummeling them until he could barely stand. He told himself that he’d confront him tomorrow. But when tomorrow came, he put it off again. And again, and again... until a week had passed and he’d convinced himself that it was best not to think about it.

The outlet for his frustration had its benefits. Between his daily sessions in the home gym and the physical therapy appointments, Matt could feel himself getting stronger every day. In turn, it gave him an energy, a drive that he’d been lacking for so long.

A couple of weeks after the home gym was installed, Ian announced that Matt could probably continue on his own.

“You’ve done well, Matt,” Ian said at the end of their final appointment. “Your strength has improved beyond anything I expected. Your balance is excellent, and you’re moving quickly and easily. If you remember, you couldn’t even walk unassisted when we first started.”

Matt opened his mouth to argue the point.

“I know you’re about to dismiss it, but please don’t,” Ian interrupted. He’d got used to Matt’s refusal to accept praise, no matter how deserved.

Matt picked at his sweats in response.

“What’s your seizure frequency now?”

Matt sighed. “Once every second day, sometimes every third day if I’m lucky – although I did have two in one day last week.”

“That makes maintaining exercise hard.”

Matt nodded.

“So you are doing exceptionally well. Are you still on supplemental oxygen after a seizure?”

Matt nodded again. His head lowered, he said, “they’re going to review it in a couple of weeks. They said something about a test in the clinic.” As much as he hated the oxygen, he was dreading having to return to hospital just for a stupid test.

“That’s good. Fingers crossed, eh?”

Matt held out his hand, and Ian shook it. “Thanks,” Matt said firmly, reverting into business mode. “I really appreciate your help.”

As he got up to leave, Ian called out, “remember, if you ever want to spar with Batman, let me know and I’ll set it up.”

Matt rolled his eyes behind his glasses. He’d successfully avoided meeting the echolocation specialist who had been nicknamed Batman for a year now – ever since he was first mentioned at Matt’s initial hospitalization. He wasn’t about to meet him now, even though Foggy and most of the hospital staff seemed to be obsessed with this guy. Matt just waved goodbye in response.

 

* * *

 

Health-wise, Matt was on the up, but his attempts to solve the puzzle of “Lantom’s” notes, not to mention the druggings, were less than successful. Every time Matt expressed intention to research the druggings on the streets, he and Foggy would end up in a shouting match.

“You can’t risk it, Matt,” Foggy yelled on this particular occasion.

“I can’t risk more people being drugged either,” Matt argued.

“Yeah, but if you die, no one is going to be saved by you again ever.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Foggy.”

“You’ve just spent two months recovering from yet another brain injury brought on by the last time you tried to solve the whole drugging thing. Do you really want to go through that again?”

“No of course not. It’s different now-”

“No it’s not, Matt.”

“I have Daisy, and I-I have Danny,” Matt stuttered. He didn’t want to rely on the Danny card, but in his opinion Foggy was being insufferably protective.

Foggy snorted. “What about me?”

Matt looked puzzled. “Uh, you want to come along?”

“No, Matt, I _don’t_ want to come along,” Foggy said in a mocking tone. “What I’m saying is, you’re not the only one impacted by the seizures. I haven’t put in all this time and effort and _emotion-_ “

“So it’s about you now?”

“Somewhat… yes. I’m not afraid to say it. You will not bully me into pretending that it won’t affect me.”

“Fuck you, Foggy.”

“Fuck _me_? Shit, Matt. Can you even hear yourself? I’ve been slaving away, running our business, picking up after you, taking responsibility for getting you to appointments, for helping you through seizures-”

“I didn’t realize you were so angry about helping,” Matt sneered. “I never asked you to do all that.”

“We’re friends, Matt. That’s what friends do. A-and I’d like to think you’d do the same for me.”

Matt looked uncomfortable.

“Or maybe our friendship isn’t as equal as I thought it was,” Foggy added when Matt didn’t make an attempt to reply. There was a moment’s silent stand-off, then Foggy spat, “fuck you, Matt. Do what you like, but if you end up in a coma again, you’re on your own.” Foggy grabbed his coat and stormed out of Danny’s apartment, slamming the door behind him.

“Foggy, don’t go,” Matt called out after him. But Foggy was already jabbing furiously at the elevator button.

Matt slumped on the couch and wiped his prickling eyes. His mouth always got away from him when he got angry. He considered going upstairs to the home gym, but changed his mind when a fresh new wave of indignant anger washed over him. Foggy had no right to tell him what to do. It was not an exchange, he never promised anything.

Matt stormed into his bedroom and pulled out his fortified hoodie and pants. Grabbing Daisy’s backpack and his special cane, Matt called in a gruff voice, “Daisy, come.”

After half an hour on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, Matt’s anger had somewhat dissipated. It might have had something to do with the mugging he successfully prevented, but also the strangeness of having to catch a cab to Hell’s Kitchen before he could even start patrolling for the evening.

After an hour, he gave up on his hunt for clues and wandered back to his own apartment - his beloved 6a. It smelled stale after being shut up for so many weeks. He pulled off his hoodie and boots and padded into his room, flopping onto his bed and curling up around Daisy. There was nowhere like home.

 

* * *

 

Matt jerked awake at the sound of his phone.

“H-hello?” he croaked.

“It’s Danny,” said a fuzzy voice at the other end.

Matt rolled over. “What do you want?”

“Foggy’s worried about you, but he won’t call you. I don’t know what happened between you two, but-but – uh, where are you?”

“Home.”

“But-”

“My apartment. Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Ahhh.” There was a pause, then, “uh, can I tell Foggy? He-he’s freaking out. Plus he’s – uh, I think he’s been drinking. He keeps muttering about you and it’s weirding me out.

“Tell him- tell him I’ll be back soon,” Matt said quietly. “And thank you, Danny, for calling.”

 

Matt got home to find Foggy sitting on the couch nursing a glass of whiskey.

Foggy broke the silence with “did you catch him?”

“Who?”

“Whoever is dosing Hell’s Kitchen with hallucinogens.”

“It might be a her. Equal opportunity crime and all,” Matt replied, always contrary.

Foggy took a sip of his whiskey.

“Maybe it’s time to lay off the whiskey, Foggy,” Matt said carefully. He stepped forward, his hand out. Foggy gave a grunt of bitterness, but handed Matt the glass nevertheless.

They sat there in silence until Foggy said, “Danny said you went home.”

Matt hesitated, then nodded.

Foggy put his face in his hands with a small moan. In a more conciliatory tone, he said, “we should go home, Matt.”

“I agree.”

“This weekend?”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

“That’s not permission to go out in your underwear again, mind you.” Foggy shook his finger at Matt. “I was serious what I said before – about re-injuring yourself.”

“I know,” Matt said. He sat down on the couch and reached for Foggy’s hand, gently threading his calloused fingers through Foggy’s soft, pudgy ones. “And I’d like to think that if you were injured in the same way, I’d look after you with the care and compassion you’ve shown me.”

Foggy shook away Matt’s hand. “You don’t need to say that just because you think that’s what I want to hear.”

“I know.” Matt bit his lip as he tried to work out how to turn this disagreement around. Wordlessly, he got up and wandered into the kitchen, searching for the largest glass Danny had. He returned with a glass of water. “Drink this. We have a meeting at 9am – which is…” He tapped his phone, which announced it was 1.43am.

“Ouch,” Foggy said.

“Yeah, ouch,” Matt agreed. “Are you going to be alright getting to bed?”

“I’ll manage,” Foggy mumbled. Matt put his hand out anyway. He could smell the alcohol practically seeping out of every one of Foggy’s pores. Foggy looked like he was going to refuse Matt’s help, but eventually he capitulated and let Matt help him up the stairs to his room. Matt grabbed not one but two glasses of water for Foggy’s bedside table just in case.

“Night, Fog,” Matt said as he left the room. Foggy just grunted in response.

 

* * *

 

“Morning, sunshine,” Matt sang as he opened the curtains in Foggy’s room.

“Ergh, no,” Foggy moaned, pulling the pillow over his head.

“We have a client meeting in 90 minutes,” Matt reminded him.

Foggy grumbled something unintelligible into the pillow.

“What did you say?”

Foggy pushed the pillow off his face and gave a small yelp at the light. “Argh, you should be thankful that you’ve never had to experience the combination of morning light and hangover.”

Matt raised his eyebrows, but decided against talking back. He’d leave Foggy to his hangover and hope that he was somehow presentable come 9am.

 

Come 9am, Foggy was not presentable. Matt came into Foggy’s office to find him head down on his desk.

“Um, Foggy?”

Foggy grunted in acknowledgment.

“Do you need to lie down? I have a lovely couch just a few rooms away.”

“No, I’m okay.”

“You don’t sound okay. Ruby and I can do this appointment alone. We can fill you in later.”

Foggy pushed his fingers through his hair. “Really, Matt, I’m fine. Just give me a moment.”

Matt gave a single nod and left Foggy to his misery.

Foggy wasn’t much more help in the client meeting. He shifted uncomfortably the entire appointment, barely speaking and letting Matt lead the conversation – a complete reversal of their roles over the last year. Matt then worked with Ruby for the rest of the morning, devising a defense strategy while Foggy pretended to read over a contract, secretly wishing he could bury himself under a rock for the next 12 hours – or at least until his hangover had passed.

Come lunch time, Foggy grumbled about getting something greasy from the shop around the corner.

Matt started, “are you sure you don’t want something more hydrating-”

“Shut up, Matt,” Foggy snapped, grabbing his coat and storming out the door.

Ruby and Karen exchanged looks as Matt wandered dejectedly into his office.

Karen gave a tentative knock at the door. “Um, Matt?”

Matt tipped his head in acknowledgement.

“What’s going on between you and Foggy?”

When Matt didn’t reply, Karen slipped into the room and shut the door discretely behind her. She drew up a chair next to Matt’s. “What happened? Can I help?”

“It’s nothing.”

Karen rolled her eyes. “It’s never nothing. You’re walking on eggshells and Foggy’s got a hangover from hell. Plus he’s been shooting you dagger eyes all day.” When Matt didn’t respond, Karen continued, “is it something that Ruby and I need to know about? It’s not exactly giving her a great first impression.”

Matt took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. “Karen please,” he groaned. “Just leave it.”

Karen stood up abruptly. “I’m giving you two till the end of the day to short your shit out,” she said.

“Or what?”

“I’ll think of something,” Karen huffed, striding out the room.

Matt replaced his glasses and listened to Karen angrily shuffle some papers on her desk. There was a pause, then she said, “Ruby, do you want to grab lunch? There’s a great Indian restaurant a few blocks away.” She paused, then said in a louder voice, “it’s Matt’s shout.”

Rolling his eyes, Matt pulled out his credit card and held it out so that Karen simply swooped in and snatched it from his fingers. They left without a further word to Matt.

Matt was fine with being alone. He wandered into the kitchenette and grabbed one of the chocolate milks from the fridge. He’d stocked up after he realized Melvin was onto something with the meal replacement thing. The milk was easy and filling and he didn’t have to make decisions about what to eat. He slumped at his desk while he sipped at the milk. Daisy put a paw on Matt’s calf in an attempt to get him to take her for a walk, but Matt shook her off. “Later,” he said gruffly. He was only partially through the milk when Daisy started pawing more frantically. “Later,” Matt snapped. “Go to your basket.”

Daisy let out a pathetic whine, then a bark, scrabbling at Matt’s shoe before jumping up at his knee.

Matt closed his eyes, suddenly aware that Daisy was alerting him to a seizure. “Not now,” he mumbled to himself.

Matt could feel his heartrate increase as he tried to figure out what to do first. He’d never had to hook himself up to the oxygen alone before. He stumbled over to the couch and with shaking fingers, he pulled out the machine and switched it on. “Shit,” he said as he untangled the nasal cannula. He ran his fingers along the tubing until he got to the prongs. As much as he hated the oxygen, the threats of further brain damage were motivating enough for him to comply. He pressed the prongs into his nose and held the tubing in place as something to do while he waited, pressing it deeper and deeper into the soft flesh under his nose and the anxiety increased. He waited…

 

* * *

 

Foggy returned to the office with a bag of fried chicken and fries. He knew Matt would hate the smell, but he didn’t care right now. He noted the cane and coat by the door that signaled that Matt was still around even if Karen and Ruby weren’t, but he didn’t bother to say hello, grumpily wandering into his office to eat his lunch alone.

Foggy had eaten one piece and was onto his second when he heard a small moan from Matt’s office. He stopped mid-bite. There was another moan and Foggy stood up quickly, wiping his hands on an already greasy napkin. “Matt?” he called. When there was no response, Foggy wandered into Matt’s office to see Matt slumped face down on the couch, one hand dangling over the edge and a patch of brown beneath his mouth.

Foggy retched.

Of all the days, Foggy thought. Forgetting the fact that he was mad at Matt, Foggy held his breath as he pushed Daisy aside. “Matt,” Foggy said in a small voice. “Matt? Are you okay?”

He shook Matt’s shoulder, eliciting a groan.

“Dude, you have to sit up. You had a spew. I think I need to take you to hospital.”

Matt gave a small moan in response.

“I know, buddy. You hate hospitals, but do you remember last time you spewed? You ended up with pneumonia.”

Matt didn’t acknowledge Foggy’s words at all, so Foggy drew out his phone and called 911.

 

* * *

 

Karen and Ruby returned to the office after a lengthy lunch to find it empty, save for a hysterical Daisy.

“Huh,” Karen said when she spotted Foggy’s half eaten chicken on his desk. She poked her head into Matt’s office to see the tangle of oxygen tubing on the couch next to a bundle of towel. “Shit,” she muttered, pulling out her phone.

“What is it?” Ruby asked.

Karen combed her fingers through her hair as Foggy’s phone went to voicemail. She tried Matt’s phone, only to hear the ring tone echoed in his office: the computerized “Karen, Karen, Karen...”

She tried Foggy again. “Foggy, where are you and Matt? Call me. I’m worried.”

Ruby asked again, “what happened?”

“Not sure,” Karen said, taking a deep breath and shaking on the exhale.

Ruby looked unconvinced, but didn’t push it. She’d quickly learned that this wasn’t exactly a conventional workplace.

“Uh, let’s get back to work. Maybe they’ll be back soon,” Karen said, trying to keep her voice even.

 

* * *

 

Foggy ignored Karen’s call, unwilling to extract his hand from Matt’s grasp. Matt was sitting upright in the ER bed, looking pale and tense. Every time his eyes started to droop, he startled awake with a gasp, each time coughing painfully as his breath caught. Even though they were semi-confident Matt hadn’t aspired any stomach contents, the doctors insisted he stay for a few hours for observation, and Matt hadn’t been coherent enough to convince them otherwise. A few times he’d tried to climb out of bed, but Foggy had managed to stop him each time, talking soft encouraging words to Matt as he slumped exhausted against the pillows once again.

After a few hours of waiting, Matt started to act more coherent and finally croaked, “you came.”

Foggy shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“On my own – you said,” Matt mumbled.

“I don’t understand,” Foggy said.

“Next time, I’m on my own – that’s what you said.”

Foggy groaned and put his head in his hand. “You don’t get it, do you?”

Matt tilted his head towards Foggy in response.

“I’m not leaving you, you idiot,” Foggy explained. “You had a seizure at work. I’m not going to abandon you.”

“But you said-”

“I said if you go out in your Devil suit and get hit on the head-” Foggy sighed. “Never mind. I was angry. I regret it now.”

Matt pulled the blanket up over his shoulders and closed his eyes.

“Right,” Foggy said tiredly. “Maybe I’ll see if they’ll spring us. Wait here.”

Matt gave a single nod, already ready to drift off to sleep again.

A few minutes after Foggy left, he became aware of the disgusting taste in the back of his throat. He couldn’t sense any water nearby, however.

A nurse bustled by and he called out for assistance, but if she heard him, she certainly didn’t indicate so. Another person passed by, this time acknowledging Matt’s call.

“Excuse me, can I have some water?”

“What do I look like – a nurse?” The stranger gave an indignant snort and turned away, muttering to himself. Only as she left did Matt smell the pungent body odor and stale cigarettes that suggested she was a fellow patient instead – and one who was in desperate need of a shower.

Pushing aside the blankets, Matt swung his legs around so that they dangled a foot above the floor. He slid off the bed and stood there for a moment, steading himself. He tried to hear for Foggy, but he had the post-seizure fuzziness that always screwed up his senses. He ripped off the pulse ox monitor on his finger, ignoring the alarm as he shuffled forward into the hallway. “Excuse me,” he said to a passing figure.

“Sorry, I’m busy,” they said, not bothering to stop.

He turned around to ask the next passer-by, but they bumped into his shoulder, sending him stumbling into the wall. “Watch out,” they snapped, not bothering to see if Matt was okay.

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” Foggy yelled from afar. Matt slumped against the wall, eyes prickling with relief.

Foggy ran towards Matt and put his arm under Matt’s shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?” Foggy cupped Matt’s chin, “hey, talk to me, Matt. You weren’t trying to escape where you?”

It took Matt a few moments to answer. “Uh,” he said with a small choke. “I – wanted water.”

“You wanted water,” Foggy said in disbelief. “There was some by your bed. You couldn’t have finished it all already.”

Matt hunched in on himself. “I-I-don’t know.”

Seeing Matt’s confused expression, Foggy immediately regretted snapping. “It’s cool. You have seizure brain. We’ll get you some water. Come on,” he tugged on Matt’s arm and they slowly walked back to Matt’s cubicle.

After Foggy had poured Matt a glass of water (from the nearly full jug beside his bed, of course), Foggy perched on the end of the bed. “So, apparently Doctor Millet just came on call and she’s going to come and have a chat to you. Maybe then you’ll be sprung.”

 _And we can both go home and get some sleep_ , Foggy thought to himself, feeling a little wicked all the same.

Matt’s neurologist didn’t have much to say other than to support Foggy’s decision to bring Matt into hospital (much to Matt’s dismay). And half an hour later, they walked out of the hospital, both bleary eyed and somewhat nauseous.

“I’m sorry,” Matt said as soon as they got into the cab.

“What for?”

“For this-” Matt gestured towards the hospital.

“You can’t help it,” Foggy said. “Haven’t we already gone over this?”

“Hospital smells must be hell with a hangover,” Matt stated.

“You remember that?”

Matt shrugged. He had strands of memory of that morning, of Foggy moaning at the morning light, the whiskey glass on the kitchen counter. Not much. But… “I can smell the acetaldehyde leaching off you.

Foggy deadpanned, “is it as good for you as it is for me?”

Matt leaned against Foggy’s shoulder. “Let’s not fight again,” he said tiredly.

Foggy sighed. Ever since they’d met, they’d had small fights here and there. At college, it was the cheese rings Matt took offense to, or Matt’s bad habit of disappearing in the middle of the night. Later, it was disagreements about their post-college living arrangements or the reporting of sexual harassment at the law firm they interned at. And then there was the feuds over Daredevil, which overshadowed all other arguments. Foggy admired Matt’s current resolve, but couldn’t imagine not arguing with his stubborn, brave and risk-taking friend. He didn’t know how to respond, so he merely brushed Matt’s hair away from his eyes then gave Matt’s shoulders a silent squeeze of support.


	47. Hell-bent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sigh* I split the chapter again so the chapter count's gone up one. Enjoy (and leave a comment if you want)!

Things were still shaky between Matt and Foggy a few days after their fight. Matt was still hell-bent on searching for the source of the drugs, and Foggy was furious that Matt wasn’t taking his safety and health seriously. Matt’s emergency visit to hospital had only temporarily dampened his desire to return to the streets, leading to a second, smaller fight between the two friends – a fight that resolved itself only when Matt agreed to take Danny with him the next time he embarked on a late-night patrol. Foggy was relatively pleased with this compromise – not only because Matt had back up, but also because Danny’s presence had the added benefit of reducing the number of hours Matt stayed out at night. Matt and Danny were better friends now, but Matt’s tolerance of Danny’s relentless chatter still hadn’t significantly increased.

Like it or not, it wasn’t soon before Matt was forced to call on Danny for help – but this time it wasn’t for a nighttime prowl.

It all started when Ruby appeared at Matt’s office door. “Um, Matt, I just took a strange phone call,” she said.

Ruby’s heartrate was beating faster than usual. Matt pushed back his chair, “what’s wrong?”

“Melvin – Melvin Potter- uh, I just got a call from his caseworker. She needs your help.”

“What’s happened. Is she on the phone now?”

“She just said to come down to Melvin’s workshop. She thinks he’s been drugged again.”

Matt shook his head. There was something Ruby wasn’t telling him. Her heartbeat was all over the place. Foggy heard the commotion and came running.

“Are you sure?” Foggy asked. “Are you sure it was his caseworker?”

Ruby simply answered, “should I call the police?”

“ _No_! I mean no, I’ll handle it,” Matt said, rubbing his forehead. “Thanks, Ruby.”

Matt made for the door, grabbing Daisy’s leash. But before he could open the door, Foggy grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the hallway outside the office, well away from Ruby’s earshot. “Matt, wait,” Foggy hissed. “I know you can match Melvin when you’re in top form, but you’re still not anywhere near fit enough at the moment.”

Matt hissed back, “he’s going to hurt someone – or at the very least ruin his chances of getting off. What do you think’s going to happen to him in jail huh?”

“I know you want to help, but can we call Danny instead – or even Luke? If Melvin’s throwing circular saw blades again, I’d rather Luke be there.” Foggy grabbed his phone and searched his contacts. “Shit, I don’t have Luke. I’ll call Claire, she can-”

“Danny. Call Danny. Foggy, I have to go,” Matt said hurriedly. He took off at speed down the stairs.

“Matt, wait! I want to come,” Foggy called after Matt. Foggy gave a groan of frustration.  Matt’s fitness had increased to the point where he could easily outrun Foggy once again. “Okay, but I’m also calling Claire,” Foggy yelled down the stairs.

Foggy immediately dialed Danny, who promised to head straight to Melvin’s workshop. Claire’s phone went straight to voicemail, so Foggy left a hurried message, briefly mentioning sharp blades and “Matt’s gone to play the hero”. That should do it.

Ruby looked up as Foggy returned to the office. “Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I-I hope.” Foggy stammered. “Matt’s gone to Melvin’s to help.”

“On his own? Is that wise? Isn’t Melvin violent?”

“Uh, Matt’s good at talking people down,” Foggy replied. He was tapping at his phone, trying to get the location app to work.

“Shit,” he said. “Matt’s location isn’t appearing. It says ‘location not authorized’.”

“What’s that?”

“An app. It tells me where he is.”

“Is that legal?”

“He set it up.” Foggy gave a groan. “Shit, I forgot. Melvin wiped the app’s settings when he checked Matt’s phone.” He looked around the room. “Where’s Karen?”

“She went out. She didn’t say where.”

Foggy gave a grunt of annoyance. “I’m going to Melvin’s,” he said. “If Karen comes back, tell her-tell her- ah, never mind.”

Foggy started out the door, but Ruby yelled, “ _wait!”_

Foggy stopped in his tracks. “What?”

“I’m coming.”

“No you’re not. You have to stay here.”

“I know where he is. Matt, that is. I know where he is.”

“What?”

“Come on,” she said, heading towards the door and gesturing him to follow.

There was a car waiting just outside for them. “I called an Uber,” Ruby explained.

“That was quick,” Foggy said, opening the door for her.

They didn’t speak as the car started off. But a few blocks on, Foggy said to the driver, “hey, this is the wrong way.”

“No it isn’t,” Ruby said.

“How do you know Melvin’s address anyway?”

“Client files. Besides, Matt’s not at Melvin’s,” Ruby replied as the car stopped in front of Fogwell’s.

“What’s going on?”

“Come on, we’re here,” she said.

“No,” Foggy said, suddenly smelling a rat. “What’s going on? Why are we at Fogwell’s? Tell me.”

 

* * *

 

Matt ducked a flying blade as he entered Melvin’s workshop. Melvin gave a roar of rage and threw two more in quick succession, each missing Matt by a hair.

“Melvin, calm-” Matt’s sentence was short as he dodged a hammer. He gestured at the waiting Daisy to stay back and crept along the back wall, trying to identify something that could be used for a shield.

Matt called out, “Melvin, can we talk?”

The answer came in the form of a knife that flew at Matt’s hand as he reached for a square piece of metal. It twanged as it stuck in the wooden bench, right where Matt’s hand was only seconds earlier.

Matt winced.

“Uh, Melv-”

Matt ducked another projectile. Clearly talking to Melvin wasn’t working.

Matt took a few steps backwards then took a swinging jump towards Melvin, springing off the bench so that he landed squarely on Melvin’s smaller frame. Melvin shrieked as Matt came down on top of him. He kicked Matt off and stamped on Matt’s hand with a sickening crunch.

“Melvin, just calm down,” Matt tried again.

“You killed Betsy, you killed Betsy,” Melvin wailed.

“Mel- _what_?”

“You killed her.”

“I-I would never. She called me. Why would you think tha-” Matt rolled under the bench to avoid another projectile.

A machine roared into action, momentarily disorienting Matt. He could sense the air currents spinning away from the roaring object. Matt closed his eyes tight, trying to decipher the threat. The roar came closer and he scrambled out from beneath the bench, returning to the far wall for safety.

Just as Melvin started to advance, there was a crash from the door as Danny arrived.

“Danny, get down,” Matt hissed.

“Oh, hey Ma-” But Danny’s chipper words got cut off as a circular blade whirred at his head. Danny dodged sideways but not quite enough. The blade clipped his cheek before hitting the wall and clattering to the floor.

“Ow,” Danny replied in a child-like voice.

Matt rolled his eyes, before tilting his head towards Melvin, gesturing to Danny that they simultaneously take opposite paths around the island bench. As they neared Melvin, the terrified man lashed out, launching himself at Danny. Matt came up from behind, trying and failing to grab Melvin’s arms. He dodged a kick, and before he could retaliate, he realized Daisy had crept underneath the bench and was making her way towards Melvin.

“No, Daisy. _Back_ ,” Matt hissed, taking a blow to his chin in his moment of distraction.

Daisy ducked out from beneath the island bench and grabbed Melvin’s pants leg, shaking it with a small growl. Whatever Melvin saw, it wasn’t the small dog that he knew and loved. Melvin looked down and screamed, backing up so that he was scrabbling at the rear wall. He looked at Matt, then Danny, then back at Daisy, who was now standing in front of him, wagging her tail. Melvin let out a great sob, then ran up the stairs to his living quarters. Danny gave Matt a puzzled glance that Matt naturally missed.

Matt tilted his head, listening to Melvin’s movements upstairs. Melvin seemed to be curled up in the corner of a room, violently sobbing. The threat was over for now… for Matt and Danny at least. But Melvin needed help and… “where’s Betsy?” Matt wondered out loud.

“Who?”

“Melvin’s caseworker. She called the office – or at least Ruby-” Matt paused, trying to work out what had just happened.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it too long. His phone rang out with “ _Mr Fear… Mr Fear… Mr Fear…_ ”

Danny said, “who’s Mr Fear?”

Matt shook his head. “I don’t know. Uh, I-I don’t have any contacts by that name. Anyway- i-it’s not my concern right now.”

Matt started up the stairs, planning to let the call go to voicemail. Melvin was his number one priority right now. If he’d been dosed with the fear-inducing hallucinogen as Ruby had stated, then he needed help.

He was halfway up the stairs when his phone rang again, “ _Mr Fear… Mr Fear… Mr Fear_ …”

Matt gave a growl of frustration, but answered the phone with a gruff, “yes?”

“Matthew Murdock,” a low voice said.

“Speaking. Who are you?”

“ _Mr Fear, of course.”_

Matt snorted. “I don’t have time for this. Goodbye-”

“ _Franklin Nelson… Foggy, I should say_.” The man’s voice changed as he sang with a slight sneer, “ _Jolly Foggy, liked by everyone. What did he do to deserve you_?”

Matt froze. “Who are you?”

“ _Julia Carpenter_ ,” the man at the end of the phone continued. “ _Blind, but strangely talented. I suppose you like to think it’s your influence, Murdock. You always were narcissistic like that._ ”

“Wha-what are you talking about?”

Danny called up from the bottom of the stairs, “what’s wrong?”

Matt shook his head and put his finger to his lips. “Not now,” he mouthed.

“ _Karen Page_ ,” the caller continued. “ _Talented researcher. She pushed me into enacting the final act prematurely. Shame. I had so many other things in store._ ”

“Listen,” Matt growled, his cheeks reddening in anger. “I don’t know who you are or what your plan is, but believe me, you’ll be sorry-”

“ _Sorry for what? I haven’t told you my plan yet. Of course, if you want to know, come to Fogwell’s gym and find out. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the address._ ”

“Who- hello? _Hello_?” Matt kicked the wall when he realized the caller had hung up.

Danny said, “what is it?”

“I don’t know.” Matt remembered the conversation he’d had with Karen in the office that night. He said, “Danny, when you bought Fogwell’s, was there anything strange about the transaction?”

“How- uh, no, I don’t think so.”

“Who handled it?”

“Hogarth. She handles all my real estate holdings.”

Matt rolled his eyes at the blasé way Danny said, “all”. But he swallowed his bitterness and said, “think, was there anything odd?”

“Um, I guess it went through quickly. They took the first offer.”

“They, as in Fear Inc.?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s right. Strange name.”

Matt rolled his eyes again.

“You haven’t told me why you want to know.”

Matt slipped past Danny, calling as he went, “I have to go do something. Look out for Melvin. Don’t let him leave the premises.”


End file.
